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howeirdVery quiet day. Woke up up at 8:30, got out of bed at 9:30. I love my internet wi-fi radio - listened to radio stations in Bangkok, Pataya and Prae. The ads are still an even split between soft women's voices politely suggesting a product and loud men's voices shouting about everything from a boxing match to a motorcycle to hair goop.
Did not expect anything worthwhile on TV, so sat in the recliner and listened to KLIV's rebroadcast of the Commonwealth club's interview of the guy who wrote the Steve Jobs biography. He had also written best selling bios of Einstein and Ben Franklin. He said Jobs was like Franklin, a design expert with wide-ranging interests while Einstein was a quantum leap ahead on the genius scale.
Finished reading Ruth Rendell's The Face of Trespass, which was a difficult read, especially for Rendell. I don't recommend it. It's a writing experiment, mostly, where Rendell, a logical, concise writer attempts to be inside the head of someone who is scattered, and whose internal dialog is all over the place. The last three chapters were so telegraphed it sucked the mystery right out of it. Loose ends were taped into place rather than tied up.
Spent some of my reading time out on the patio in my Shark's jacket (it was about 50° out) and jumped each time the heater came on (it is a big heater/aircon unit on the patio).
Next up is Terry Pratchett's Reaper Man.
But first, the Packers are about to play Da Bears.
Sayonara.
Did not expect anything worthwhile on TV, so sat in the recliner and listened to KLIV's rebroadcast of the Commonwealth club's interview of the guy who wrote the Steve Jobs biography. He had also written best selling bios of Einstein and Ben Franklin. He said Jobs was like Franklin, a design expert with wide-ranging interests while Einstein was a quantum leap ahead on the genius scale.
Finished reading Ruth Rendell's The Face of Trespass, which was a difficult read, especially for Rendell. I don't recommend it. It's a writing experiment, mostly, where Rendell, a logical, concise writer attempts to be inside the head of someone who is scattered, and whose internal dialog is all over the place. The last three chapters were so telegraphed it sucked the mystery right out of it. Loose ends were taped into place rather than tied up.
Spent some of my reading time out on the patio in my Shark's jacket (it was about 50° out) and jumped each time the heater came on (it is a big heater/aircon unit on the patio).
Next up is Terry Pratchett's Reaper Man.
But first, the Packers are about to play Da Bears.
Sayonara.
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