The binge has begun.
I read "Confessions of a Crap Artist" by Philip K. Dick. The whole thing. It was not what I expected. Certainly not PA or even sci-fi. It's the story of a man who collects junk, hoards newspapers, hatches crazy ideas, and is unprepared for life in the real world. Turned out to be just as much a story about his sister and her husband. It started slowly, but once I got through the first hundred pages or so, I couldn't put it down. The hooks were in me. I needed to know what happened to the characters. At midnight I saw I only had fifty or sixty pages to go, so I said "what the hell" and just finished it.
Mr. Dick does everything I don't do. Lays out detailed characters in first person. Gets deep into psychology and philosophy. Dissects human relationships. I'm just a simple guy with a bird who likes eyeballs.
I got two of his books from the library and need to get something to read next weekend.
Next up: "A Scanner Darkly".