writing: why yes, I am writing books, thank you. I got my characters out of the soup conversation, into the actual soup and now they're cleaning up the mess. I'm not sure about my soupy orgies though.
Hey, guess what. Bet you can't guess.
I actually witnessed an orgy, long ago.
I sat and read a magazine in the room with the orgy-participants. It had started as a small party and ended up something more. I didn't want to join in but I didn't want to be thought a rude prude and leave the small apartment. So I really did sit, drinking rum with a magazine on my nearly naked lap (I'd gotten to the point of nearly undressing) and tried to pretend that magazine (I have no idea what it was but I suspect it was some Art Monthly thing) was the most fascinating bit of literature, ever.
I wonder how I managed to survive those years when I didn't want to have anyone think badly of me. What a lot of work and what nice people I met back then because if I'd met anyone horrible? I'd have been sheeple enough to go along. Baaaa.
Reading: Just listened to Topper which had some great moments of snark, but was more outdated than any book I've read in .... forever. It was set during prohibition and is almost all about drink and hussies (must be pronounced "huzziez" to get it right.) It's generally silly and I found it difficult to sort out the moments when the silliness was intentional and when it was Thorne Smith trying to be profound. Was it supposed to be racy or make fun of something that pretended to be racy? I don't know. The ghosts were inconsistent and that was annoying, too. Thorne was like a not particularly successful imitation of Booth Tarkington who's also outdated but still fun.
Oh and, say,** the dialogue, which was advertised as witty, is often mind-numbingly Dumb. The battling Kerbys were dull.
I forgave it enough to listen to the whole thing because of little gems--like the character whom no one particularly thinks about because he plays a clarinet not badly enough to be mocked and not well enough to be interesting. And I liked Topper's obsession with his cat, Scallops.
I must say that the movie with Cary Grant as George Kerby was way better, like a thousand gazillion trillion times better. Anything with Cary Grant would be.
I have to listen to books these days because if I sit down for more than a few minutes, I get hit with the damned panic. Hoo boy am I sick of the damned panic. Even knowing all the Great Secrets of Dealing With Panic (basic big secret: don't worry, be happy--rejoice in the panic cuz panic's not going anywhere, babee.) I can't seem to get cozy with it. It's even more tiresome than the bickering Kerbys and that's saying something.
** the characters are always throwing in the word "say." It's the "like" of the 1920s