To all those who were concerned: My shoulder is now as good as new and I'd like to thank everyone for their well-wishes. Despite the enormous amount of excruciating pain immediately following, the actual damage must have been minor, because after taking two Advil before bed, I awoke the next morning feeling wholly refreshed and pain-free. Either the incident wasn't anywhere near as serious as it felt, or Advil is some kind of miracle drug. Not that a miracle isn't an unreasonable thing to expect from a pill that costs $6 for a bottle of 20. At that price I should be able to eat a few and regenerate a few limbs.
Anybody need a good book to read? Nina the Fabulous Internet Sleuth sent Jonathan Coe's novel The House of Sleep to me earlier this month and I am now the newest of Coe's writing disciples. This man can weave a plot like a set of 10,000-thread-count sheets. Nominally a love story, this could probably be better described as an obsession story.
The book's chapters alternate between the lives of the four central characters while living in a rundown cliff-side manor which was being used as a boarding house for the university they all attended in the mid-eighties and then fast-forwards about a decade later when they reflect on how circumstances, events and decisions during their school years influence each other's lives in their thirties.
Sarah is a peculiar girl; a narcoleptic who often mistakes her dreams for actual events. Sarah's psyche is severely damaged by Gregory, her equally odd ex-boyfriend who has an unnatural fascination with sleeping habits. Terry's passion for cinema drives him to several extremes, while Terry's friend Robert has some serious identity issues.
The House is a truly excellent book, the kind that sucked me in and held me in a death grip until the last page. Mildly disturbing and extremely funny, there isn't anyone I wouldn't recommend this book to.