Reading. Comedy. Hanging out with my ace, ace friends. Graphic novels...that's very tentative though. I'm afraid if I read too many I'll develop a desire to grow a beard and wear a great-coat. (For god's sake, i've already called them 'graphic novels', what's happened to me?) Looking at my garden and thinking I should do something about the vines that have grown into the overhead powerlines before everything catches on fire.
Bruce Springsteen. Janette Howard...would love to know whether she is insane, evil or lobotomised. A friend pointed out the other day I have a penchant for shambolic men, so probably add in Nick Nolte, Mel Gibson and Hugh Grant. Jeez. None of that sounds good. Let's stick to Springsteen. And Viggo Mortensen, but only if he wears all that armour he wore as Aragon in Lord Of The Rings. Oh my...I need a moment to myself now...
At the moment, Sufjan Stevens: Come On Feel The Illinoise. Can't take it off the stereo.
Go see Kenny. It's bloody hilarious. At last an Australian comedy film that doesn't patronise working class people. Trust me on this one. You'll love it.
The Glasshouse. Der.
There's a million. Nick Hornby's latest book "Long Way Down". His best by far and I loved it. "The Adventures of Kavalier and Clay" Michael Chabon, Donna Tartt's "The Secret History" and "The Little Friend". Zadie Smith's "On Beauty". (It's much better than White Teeth I think.) Anything by Robert Dessaix and almost anything by Peter Carey except "Illywhacker". (Don't do it to yourself. I've taken that bullet for you.) "Platform" by Michel Houllebecq. "Ignorance" by Milan Kundera. Neal Stephenson's "The Baroque Cycle"--it's three books and they're all the size of bricks but if you love historical fiction, you'll wet your pants. Twice. Elliot Perlman's "Three Dollars". He's ace. And "The Tales of Desperaux" by Kate DiCamillo. It's the sweetest children's book in the world. And a million more, but i'll add them some other time.