You need no ticket to make a place for yourself here where humor, black and otherwise, comes to you from the stage where the human comedy itself is being played, its performance trumping the things dark and tragic and found in the world of literature.
I think the first ARC I owned was Louis B. Jones' "California's Over", which I acquired at a time of renewed yearning for that state. It got packed away with much else of my stuff and I forgot even the title, though I remembered that I wanted to read it once it came out of storage.
I was also thinking about blogs and how those that do them, always with the intention of standing out from the crowd often become a faceless part of it, even without qualities.
And then I thought of that vortex of moving/travel/change that we find ourselves in -- I don't think a blog is a way to slow down and find yourself.
But perhaps sitting down with a book is and having this one available after all that time (4 yrs.) it really gave me the feeling that no matter how far you travel, with a book you are always home.
What a load of fatuous b.s., right? But there it is.
It is remarkable how California does seem to be more a state of mind than a thing. Something that can be recreated in memory from a song, a scent and a wind, completely recognizable as what it is, no matter what your real locale is. Like a book that creates its own reality around you.