I am reading Kim Chinquee's Oh Baby. I've been judging books lately on whether they're good or not by whether they inspire me to put them down continually to write. So far I think I like this book. Some her pieces I've read recently have done nothing for me, but she is varied in content and structure. When devoting your artistic life to short inventions you take more chances. Therefore you earn more leeway. I'm only halfway though, so more to come.

A new issue of Alice Blue Review is up. I haven't touched it yet, but Mike Young is in it.

My favorite new discovery is Etgar Keret. He is an Israeli writer who specializes in tiny absurd fables. He been around for decades now, but his work is now being reissued by FSG. I'm reading his new collection, The Girl on the Fridge, and wondering why no one has ever told me about him before. He's right up there with Edson and Tate (so it seems, I need to read more) as a large imagination crammed into a small format.

Yesterday I went to Concord, MA and drank sangria. Tonight I am alone and will probably eat oysters and write nothing.