Last night I treated myself to a rare delicacy...a fiction book. I haven't had a lot of time to read lately, and what little I have read has all been nonfiction of the occult studies sort. I'm still currently working on my re-read of Her-Bak: Egyptian Initiate, which, granted is a fictional tale, but it's more like a fictional tale constructed as a vehicle for a lot of nonfictional material -- a lot of a very heavy magicophilosophical nature, I might had. It's kind of ground to a halt right now, because I have so much other stuff going on, but, like I said, I'm still plodding.

The last bit of fiction I read was my re-read of Gone With the Wind, I believe, back when I first flew down to Memphis at the end of January. I started re-reading Diana Gabaldon's Outlander shortly after, when I first introduced daitengu to her books, but I only got halfway through it before I had to put it down and totally forgot about it.

Well, last night I decided I was going to treat myself to something pleasant after reading yet another distressing email from my mother (that I don't want to get into right now), and so I pulled out the copy of Neil Gaiman's American Gods that I bought a while back. This is a book I'm having a really hard time putting down. A really, really hard time, because it's really delicious reading.

And now I'm going to log off this computer so that I can catch a train and read for an hour or so before I get home. Yay!