I’ve always been an avid reader. Mostly fiction. Arguably, more for style than content. No vampires, ETs, zombies; not so big on sci-fi. Read enough self-help for two life-times.

Recently, I finished the Millenium Trilogy by Stieg Larsson. “The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo,” “The Girl who Played with Fire,” “The Girl who Kicked the Hornet’s Nest.” I’m told they were trendy-popular maybe 10 years ago. Not surprisingly, I’ve just read them now. Great stuff! Very compelling characters, plots, full of local color. And the Swedish film versions are great, too. Noomi Rapace, as Lisbeth Salender, is a most compelling actress.

In my late teens, I lived in Stockholm for many months. Played folk-n-blues on the streets and in the subways. Precious memories brought back to life with these books and movies.

Now, its back to Henry Miller, a favorite of mine in late adolescence (my 1st adolescence, not now….). “A Devil in Paradise” is one I’d never read. Its vintage Henry Miller: over-blown, bloated, drunken ramblings and ravings that no longer satisfy—they just wear me out. So, at least in that respect, I’ve matured a little. I’ve a memory of crossing Turkey on the Orient Express, clutching “Nexus” (book 3 of “The Rosy Crucifixion’), which today I’d find insufferably boring, particularly when compared to the real-life adventures happening at the time. Damn! Long sentence, isn’t it? He’s already rubbing off on me!

We’ll pursue this improvisation thing some other time. Have come up with 18 separate strategies so far….