sorry, sylvia:
the perils of sudden reading urges

It is distressing to suddenly be overtaken by the "My God, I need to read something right now even if it is 4AM" syndrome, then reach out for the closest book, turn on the bedlight and discover that what you have in your hands is The Bell Jar by Sylvia "Depressed? No, but do close the door after I stick my head in the oven" Plath.

Or Jack Kerouac's On the Road.

In the face of such choices, I retreated to troubled sleep.

One night, feeling excessively dehydrated, I made something to drink, groped for one of the books from the bookshelf, and found myself eye-to-text with Edward Gibbon's Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire (which I liked years ago but now has the effect of rendering me insensate).

Sometimes, "serious" literature makes me grimace - I need to be in the right frame of mind. And at 4AM, with my brain half-asleep, I'm better served with a feature article about whichever titty girl is being promoted in the latest FHM.