Thirsty Still

I spent about 9 hours yesterday (Wednesday) combined reading the Twilight trilogy (Twilight, New Moon, Eclipse) by Stephenie Meyers. No worries, I spent time socializing and running and chores and running the errands my family sent me on. I do have a life outside of books, too.

BUT I must say, while I enjoyed the books immensely (because they simply cannot be taken as serious literature), they left me dissatisfied by the appallingly bad writing. These are very drama-filled books, and sometimes the repetitiveness of certain phrases and words bothers me more than a little. I'm also bothered by the fact that the romance in these novels is too close to perfect that it catches my heart in an unsettling way. Too fantastical and Hallmark, I think. It reminds me that I haven't found anyone remotely so fascinatingly perfect in all the ways that I want yet or ever will. Some characters and people are just lucky, I suppose. It's all too fairytale happy ending for me. Well, a strange and twisted fairytale, but the happy ending is definitely there. I really like the idea of the story, but the execution is underwhelming.

I'm not quite sure how and why (yet), but I feel strangely restless since I finished the trilogy. I want to do something, interact with people. I dunno. Something. Reading's another option since the first two are simply not. Roaming the streets of Cupertino at 2am, now THERE'S a sure way to get my parents angry and get a ticket (because Cupertino cops have nothing better to do).

Since the books featured vampires - humans and werewolves too - I can't help but use the word "insatiable" to describe my current feeling of emptiness and desire to drink in the beauty in everything. I'm very energetic and twitchy right now, so sleep is out of the question.

Jack Kerouac's soul is waiting on my bed for me. and after that, some W.S. Burroughs. Perhaps their hot-cold-cool black and blue-white jazz will drug me. Then I'll sleep. Maybe.