my murakami sits forlorn on my dining table.  close to 900+ pages, it is certainly an impressive tome, sitting sentiently stoic unread.

i am trying to get through my american classics of old and new.  neil gaiman’s american gods, but more importantly philip k dick’s the penultimate truth whose return date to the library is quickly approaching. 

and yet i still have the unbroken by laura hillendbrand to finish as well.