january always makes me feel like if i tried hard enough i could be a totally different person. like, the kind of person who can make a reading goal and actually achieve it at the end of twelve months. like, the kind of person who could run a book group and suggest books at the beginning of the month rather than scrambling to get it done at the end of the month. but this is who i am and i've gotta just deal with it: i'm a this-is-the-book-for-january-even-though-it's-already-the-goddamn-22nd kind of person and i'm too old and set in my ways to change that. also: trying is overrated.
1 we are never going to meet in real life. that would require a bra and zippered pants and probably an expensive uber and no one is doing that. you don't have to worry about megan's dairy allergy or that vanessa doesn't like champagne. no cleaning the cat box or vacuuming the drapes or hiding the dirty laundry in the oven so your company doesn't realize what a huge slob you are. just you in your house glasses and gravy pants sobbing into your six pack of beer, the way rainbow rowell intended. getting together with people you don't live next door to is hella stressful. plus, a bunch of old bitches sitting around talking about fictional teenage romance is lame. OR IS IT THO.
2 we are never going to discuss this, ever. i mean seriously. i'm going to derive pleasure from knowing that people i might possibly enjoy spending time with if i ever could bring myself to meet new people and i are falling asleep and drooling on the same book we'll probably never finish. maybe we'll talk about it on twitter or something. but even thinking about organizing that is a daunting task and i'm already exhausted. mariyam suggested making a facebook group, but is that dumb? the internet is so hard sometimes. (ETA: there is a group! it's called bitches gotta read! and it is full of hilarious mostly-women people who aren't irritating! come find us!!) i also have a bunch of friends on goodreads but lesbihonest: i'm not, like, putting all these john grishams
3 we are never going to shame each other about not reading the fucking book. this is the beauty of never having to meet or talk about it: i ain't gotta come up with "thoughtful questions" and you ain't gotta pretend to remember what happened at the end of chapter seven while a bunch of wine-drunk bitches you don't even like that much wait expectantly for your answer. i'll read the books for sure, but that's only in case i run into one of you at the co-op and you decide to ask how shocked i was by the twist no one saw coming at the end.
brief internet synopsis: Dill has had to wrestle with vipers his whole life—at home, as the only son of a Pentecostal minister who urges him to handle poisonous rattlesnakes, and at school, where he faces down bullies who target him for his father’s extreme faith and very public fall from grace. The only antidote to all this venom is his friendship with fellow outcasts Travis and Lydia. But as they are starting their senior year, Dill feels the coils of his future tightening around him. Dill’s only escapes are his music and his secret feelings for Lydia—neither of which he is brave enough to share. Graduation feels more like an ending to Dill than a beginning. But even before then, he must cope with another ending—one that will rock his life to the core.
right now i'm reading "difficult women" by roxane gay, and the stack next to my bed is daunting:
"little deaths" by emma flint
"the dry" by jane harper
"idaho" by emily ruskovich
"history of wolves" by emily fridlund
"umami" by laja jufresa
"whatever happened to interracial love?" by kathleen collins
WHO EVEN HAS TIME FOR ALL THESE BOOKS. i love it but yo i need to take a speed reading class or some shit. every time the alarm goes off i pry my eyes open like, "oh right i fell asleep after three sentences i'm an idiot oh hello good morning." sad!
ps i wrote a list of reasons i don't bother making resolutions anymore and you can laugh at my pain for a dollar if you click here.