Last night I finished reading The Confessions of Max Tivoli. It is such an engrossing book. I have read a lot of books, and I've never read anything like it. The book is written in first-person from the perspective of a man who is born as an old man, and who grows younger-looking as he ages. He tells of his doomed life and his obsession with his first love.

His first kiss is a 14-year-old girl who lives downstairs. The only thing is, he is a 17-year-old who looks like he is in his fifties.

I kept thinking of The Adventures of Kavalier and Clay, but that work only shares a couple of details in common. I kept reading Max Tivoli, thinking how strange it was. I finished before I went to bed, and while I was trying to get to sleep, I still kept thinking about the book. It's just that powerful.

unrelated: Last night I dreamt that I went to see a movie by myself in an imaginary East-Austin theatre. The police came in to the film with a drug dog, and the dog came right up to me on the aisle and sat. So I got taken to jail and they searched my purse. Then the FBI came to close the investigation, because obviously, I never had any drugs on my person. I kept telling them, "I've never taken drugs! I promise!" Then the Kerry campaign picked me up as a sympathy case.

And I went to buy a personal pizza and realized that the cops still had my purse, with all my money.

If only my imagination worked so vibrantly when I was awake!
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