Books, chickenpox and all else

I've been picking up a few book to read recently. Years have passed since I last read a good book. Last week I was at Borders Times Square and gotten myself Franz Kafka's Metamorphosis with a nice 30% discount. I've became interested with Kafka after knowing and enjoying most things Kafkaesque, which makes me feel stupid not to know Kafka.

Other than that, I've been re-reading Salinger's The Catcher in the Rye. I got half way through with it the last time before life got in the way and to continue on from where I left is kinda confusing as I can't quite remember what was going on.

Apart from both books, I'm waiting for Dan Brown's The Lost Symbol to come out in paperback. You know, whatever people say about him, he writes good stories. Intriguing. I for one is someone who watches The History Channel, a lot, and this sorta thing is my cup of tea.

Being down with chickenpox this week gave me the opportunity to watch all sorta movies on TV that I wouldn't usually watch, like Jane Austen Book Club. Or some B-rated horror slasher thriller that doesn't make sense. Much of it I owe to the heavy fever and the ache on my body that makes the 2 steps to the remote control a very painful thought.

All my life, up to last weekend, I thought that chickenpox is the English language equivalent to the Malay demam campak so I was surprised when the doctor cheerfully announced that the spots on my body were because of chickenpox. So now I know, chickenpox is cacar air; demam campak is measles. And knowing is half the battle.

Anyway, being indoors all week is starting to annoy me much. I really want to go out soon and snap away that roll of Lucky films in my Minolta and hopefully, get lucky shots.

Hope you have it good, whatever it is you're doing.

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