I’m not sure that Stephen King’s memoir On Writing is my favorite book but it’s the book I’ve read more than any other, cover to cover, and right now at Pasion del Cielo there’s a dude in an armchair who’s reading the last chapter of it and he looks engrossed and I’m bothered that he’s so handsome.

I think it’s also cuz he looks a lot like the dudes my ex has gone on to date?

And here he is reading (what might be) my favorite book.

Needs to drop that shit.

Cuz look: he’s got the good beard and the light hair and the chiseled features, the good physique–that such a man should compliment his natural attributes with bookishness and good culture and charisma, what the fuck are the rest of us supposed to do?

I’m sure we’d have a nice chat over a beer if we had to but I also think (pardon me for showing the ugly bits) that when I’m out with my contemporaries, and we’re in a potential battle ground for women’s attention (i.e. a bar), I try to engineer my company so that, while almost invariably being not the most attractive, I am the most bookish. Maybe the one who tells the most jokes?

Ahdunno.

This shit is awkward to confront.