I bought a book today, and better yet I started to read it. Since I write, I try to avoid reading books because I’m like a sponge and I start writing like whomever it is I’m currently reading. I hadn’t bought a book since I went to Mexico a couple of years ago, when I picked up Nelson Algern’s Man With the golden arm and Miller’s Tropic of Cancer to read on the plane and on the beach on Isla Mujeres. I’d read Golden Arm before, but had never read Tropic of Cancer. I think I read a hundred pages of it.