monday night

I judge books by their covers. I know I shouldn't, but I do. Recently, I've found myself judging a book and therefore not reading it, then somehow picking it up again a while later and *loving* it.

Major cases in point: Maus - couldn't believe how amazing it was. Preacher - one of my favourite series, even if I still don't like the cover art that much. And now Bill Willingham's Fables.

The prologue of the book I'm currently reading got me really choked up this evening as I finished reading it during intermission at the National.

And then thinking about the book and its title led me to thinking about Hans Christian Andersen tale that I always loved, that always made me sad.

And then the play re-started, and my arse went numb and I fidgeted like a little child, much to the harrumping of the in general much older audience all around.