I have come to depend on friends to recommend new fiction, as I seem unable to spend any energy to find my own these days.
Helen's post about Carrie Pilby was so intriguing, I had to order it through interlibrary loan.
Helen appreciated Carrie's love of dictionaries, but I found an echo of my own soul in this passage about office supplies:
The nice thing about living in the Village is that it means you're close to New York University, and NYU has the best stationery shops in the world, I suppose because of the writers and film students. You can find forty-two colors of paper clips; twenty-three sizes of envelopes; seventy-six kinds of pens; markers with gold ink, silver ink, chartreuse ink, invisible ink, disappearing ink, peppermint ink, glittering ink, pink ink, scented ink and glue ink. It's been too long since I've been stationery shopping. The problem is, I suddenly need everything I see. Take those long pink erasers. All of my pencils have their own erasers, so there's no need for me to buy a pink eraser, but they just look so clean and nubile that I have to caress them. Forget what Nabokov said: the real pleasure in life is fondling office supplies. I could bite those pink erasers.Maybe I've been holed up too long in this little room making tiny red and blue marks on large stacks of paper, but I must admit to my (slightly) obsessive love of office supplies.
Yes, I know--there is something laughable about a person who thinks she's getting wild because she's going to buy office supplies. Well, you have your fun. You can watch your pornos and smoke your grass and climb onto your rooftop with a bottle of hooch and howl at the moon, but I will RUN MY FINGERS OVER MY NUBILE PINK ERASER AND GASP IN ECSTASY. And I won't wake up with a hangover or unsightly teeth marks on my neck.
And it's gotten so bad that, like a drunk sucking down Nyquil, I even get a thrill over $1 notebooks and gel pens from Target when I can't afford rice paper and mechanical pencils from Kinokuniya.