A Mellow Evening

I should be reading Walt Whitman's "Song of Myself" tonight, or the parts of it that are assigned for my next meeting of my weekly poetry workshop. Or the Nikki Giovanni selections for the same MA class. Or going over Anne Sexton's All My Pretty Ones or Pico Iyer's Sun After Dark for the essays that are coming due for my MFA program. (I am stubbornly NOT linking Ayer's book because I think it is not worth your money. Go look for it on Amazon yourself, if you must. Yes, meet the Peripatetic Poetess after a glass too many of wine!) I should also be reading Hugo's The Lady in Kicking Horse Reservoir, which is a good book, but requires a bit of concentration.

In a fit of selfishness, laziness, and pure, unadulterated bourgeois taste (ha! Note the second use of 'bourgeois' in my last 4 posts. My good friend PinkandChocolateBrown will be thrilled!), I will be reading Morrigan's Cross by Nora Roberts. (Indeed, I nicked the whole trilogy from our library's new "Free paperbacks to Encourage Reading for Fun" stand.) How could I resist? Come, read the blurb on the back of the first book of the trilogy:

As a storm rages, the tale begins...of a powerful vampire's lust for destruction - and of the circle of six charged by the goddess Morrigan to stop her.

Blame it on my tastes in fiction (I love Roberts as J.D. Robb when she's writing her In Death series with heroine Eve Dallas). Blame it on my lifelong addiction to anything having to do with vampires. Blame it on the fact that the Morrigan occupies the majority of the space on my back in my half-done backpiece tattoo. Blame it on the glass of wine I consumed with dinner. It doesn't much matter. I have just as many paperbacks featuring snarky half-naked women baiting the Commodore (or any other variation on paperback romances) as I do tomes by revered dead white men.

Tonight I haven't the patience or the attention span for anything deeper than some good trash fiction with lots of violence, strong heroines and villainess-es, and maybe some frantic, fulfilling sex. (In the book, that is. I'm currently completely unprepared for company. Unless he looks battleworn and in need of some lovin', like this.) I've been gifted a thunderstorm - no better time to read some vampirish powerlust novels. Delish!