THERE ARE THREE REASONS WHY YOU SHOULD READ my BLOG

Unfortunately, I don't know what they are.

If life were my body part, it had to be my hair.

My hair is always in shambles.

When I'm hungry, my stomach crumbles.

I woke up this morning finding I had no cereals. I went to Church with an empty stomach, and while passing the collection box (I'm an usher, remember?) I prayed for my tummy to shut up.

I had long wanted to record the sound of my empty tummy. It is funnier than the sound of grinding teeth my brother makes when asleep.

When we were growing up my brother and I shared one bed. Everytime he ground his teeth, which drove me nuts, I hushed him, and he would stop. Seniority rules, even for the unconscious.

Let us wonder. If an empty brain makes a crumbling sound, will Congress be a House of noise?

I have so many books. I have so many unread books. I just found out today I have "Under the Volcano" by Malcolm Lowry, and my brother-in-law just gave me a hardbound copy of The Lincoln Lawyer. One of these is destined towards the path of the ignored.

Trivia. Did you know that the working title of Gone With The Wind is Ba! Ba! Black Sheep? Ugly title, that.

Even if I have so many unread books, I still go to Barnes and Noble to pick up a book. With coffee after today's lunch, I read Nick Hornby's The Polysyllabic Spree in one sitting. The irony is this: I finished the book fast because I was able to relate to it. Hornby was enumerating the books he bought, and read, from September 2003 onward to 2004, and he was just reading an average percentage of the hoard, a good number of which was read unfished. That was me. I mean, not Hornby without the b; it's just that I, too, have the habit of being fickle when it comes to reading.

It does not mean I have been unfaithful to my books. I love them. I just happen to love one more than the other, though not as much as another.

Hornby bought Robert Lowell's Collected Poems and Joseph Heller's Something Happened in September 2003, but had not read them through 2004. Hellow, Heller! I bought your Catch-22 but did not read it either (I saw the film), for which my Mom could not believe me. (Another trivia: Catch-22's original working title was Catch-18.)

Have you been to Schadenfreude's blog (the link appearing on the left)? He had his links in anagrams, some of which do not make sense, though not a bit surprising, har! Here's more to anagrams, cheers!, courtesy of The Literary Companion, Emma Jones, editor: Name these 3 famous authors, TOILETS, NO LEGAL PARADE, MY NOBLE RITE.

Ms. Jones belies the theory that there were only three stories ever written, and everything is a derivative or combination of these: boy meets girl, boy loses girl, man hunts whale. Actually, I wanted to find the weirdest combination. What about whale meets girl, girl gets pregnant because it turns out to be a sperm whale, boy hunts whale in fit of anger and jealousy, boy seeks help of Japanese sushi chefs, whale seeks help of animal activists, cbs seeks help from anybody as he is trapped in a corner...