Arrived early to work, opened Word to blank page while drinking coffee and feeling sick. I called out yesterday.
Coworker came in and announced that he “has a special surprise” for me alluring to his promise for the past 4-6 months to bring in a copy of Dan Brown’s Angels & Demons.
Received mass market heavily beaten-up Dan Brown Angels & Demons over my cubicle wall. Considered saying, “I’m going to lie to you in a week and say I read it,” but instead held book with interested look on my face and said “awesome, thank you.”
I want to be a better person.
Coworker who I can’t see in adjacent cubicle shouted that Angels & Demons is his favorite Dan Brown book and I held up my copy over the cubicle wall with arm fully extended and said loudly, “I have it right here.”
Brief conversation/argument about how many Dan Brown books Dan Brown has written amongst co-workers. The conclusion is that he’s actually written “a lot of books,” not only three, which my one coworker originally, and wrongly, suggested.
Opened to first page and read “Her smile was magic” and closed the book.
I have a cold and want tom yum soup and fresh spring rolls with that chili paste stuff I never know what to call. Imagined Dan Brown calling in the same order and calling the chili paste stuff “red gold.”
Where do people live that are happy?
Picked Angels & Demons back up and flipped through the pages while reading random lines and thought, “I could probably read this in two hours,” but instead I’m typing this in my work cubicle.
Clicked on VICE article that listed my “to-reads” books and imagined Angels & Demons next to The Recognitions and did this kind of pretentious “half-laugh” and hated myself for a few seconds.
Wondering why I have such a problem with reading what is a very mainstream “normal” novel. Why can’t I just get an iced tea, sit in a plastic lawn chair, and read a Dan Brown novel without mocking it? Why can’t I just sit outside on a nice summer day in the white and green plastic lawn chair with my legs crossed and read Angels & Demons in a non cynical/ironic manner?
I think I’m an asshole.
The word count of the acknowledgment page might be longer than this.
Can’t imagine how many people Dan Brown owns.
Jesus Christ, 137 chapters.
Imagined Dan Brown becoming aroused by checking his bank statement via TD Bank iphone app and his wife begging to see the number but Dan Brown making her wait because he’s finishing chapter 95 on his new novel.
Should I move to San Francisco? People seem happy there. So many hills.
Went and got tom yum soup and fresh spring rolls with extra red chili paste stuff. While walking back to work I noticed a hawk/monster in the sky and felt like if it came down and picked me up by the shoulders via its claws via my shoulders I would just go along with it and shrug as the talons dug into my flesh.
Keep blowing my nose quietly in my cubicle while staring at Angels & Demons. The pages feel wet.
Finished lunch and now considering a coffee. Feel like I’m willingly destroying my stomach today.
I think deep down I want to be a person who can read Dan Brown and not talk shit about it beforehand or put some kind of stigma on it because it’s Dan Brown but that would mean I wouldn’t be able to write this right now. As a human being, I’m fucked. I think to function normally in current society you have to like Dan Brown novels.
Read the first few pages and feel lost, like the words are just blurring together and I’m dying.
In the last sentence I typed “worst” instead of “words.”
Is Dan Brown a minimalist?
Imagined Dan Brown reviewing Tao Lin’s Taipei and aggressively attacking it for a lack of narrative arc and forward action. Also, the paragraphs are too long. Also, Dan Brown doesn’t do drugs because Dan Brown is drugs.
I’m going to get a coffee. Wish that hawk/monster in the sky earlier would come down and pick me up and bring me to coffee shop. I can see myself dangling in the sky, lifted by hawk/monster, reading Angels & Demons.