And I started reading To The Wedding by John Berger -- in which, as usual every sentence is a jewel, every word significant -- and am holding off for the time being the intimidating idea of starting McEllroy's sweeping and sprawling Women And Men.
Meanwhile, I have this history of Islam by Tamim Ansary I need to start: Destiny Disrupted.
I'm thinking about secrets and rumors constantly. They are featured in this novel-in-progress I worked on today for several hours. The hero is an instinctive, compulsive archivist, a folklorist, a gatherer of hearsay and secrets because, coming from a librarian mother and a seminarian father he has conflated the words Holy and Important, and since all is Holy, all is equally important and such is the benign curse he must live down. What enables him to be so good at gathering information is a forced hollowness of his character, a willful surrender to the people's dispositions around him.
Meanwhile, some Autumn shots of nearby and around, in big resolution as always.
Fire escape fascination never ends (hearkens back to that song by "Belly": "made a mistake on a fire escape in San Francisco. . .)
The following three shots are my attempt at capturing in the early afternoon what I think is a very creepy looking house in my neighborhood. . .
And below a lovingly spread red tie in the grass of the park, suspiciously snake-like. 
And if you're bored, I recommended some twisted love films at The Rumpus.
And I talked about how my store's wonderful customers tell me what to read next.
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