Seventy books for me, please

Aha! It’s another exclusive “Corey surfs the Internet and finds stuff to write about” post! The ultimate in lazy blogging has become a staple in my life on the days that I’ve either: 1. spent a bunch of time on a different project but still want to put a post up or 2. had a long day at work and it’s a slow night. Luckily for you, both are true.

I’m nearly finished with my “horrible hotel experience” essay, which will be submitted and, hopefully, enjoyed by the masses some day if it is included in I Should Have Stayed Home Home: Hotels. I’m actually quite anxious for more people to read it, as I think it’s pretty good, but I’m waiting until I get either a rejection letter or an acceptance letter. I’ll put it in that Literature section to the right. The one that has only entry – my New Orleans feature. If you haven’t read it yet, please do so. If you like it, I enjoy the ego massage. If not, then I’ll just ignore you. Naturally.

Anyway, on with the “news.”

First off, Paris Hilton is set to retire in two years.

Retire from what? Starring in her own homemade porn and being rich? Man, I hate this US Weekly “news.” Though you’ll notice I’m certainly not above reporting it to you.

The article is here: Paris Hilton to Retire in 2 years

In much more delightful news, at least from my bibliophilic view, Nick Hornby has just released a new book: A Long Way Down. (I saw it at Target recently, but held myself back from buying since I was already spending money on the new Coldplay album.) It’s apparently written from the viewpoint of four different people, all visiting the same London apartment building with one thing in mind: killing themselves. They talk each other out of it and begin a support group.

I love this guy.

What I love even more is that when you are on the front page of, there’s a link in the Entertainment section that says, simply: “Four People Talking About Suicide.” How many people clicked on that expecting a group of downtrodden ex-stars (think Andrew Dice Clay and Michael Gross) contemplating their self-demise in some reality series only to find, ugh, a book. By a Brit.

Anyway, I’m excited.

While looking for A Long Way Down on the internet, I came across this: Happy Birthday Penguin. This is maybe the coolest thing I’ve seen in years.

Penguin Books, in celebrating their 70th anniversary, published 70 separate small books in an effort to bring together their past and future. These 70 books, by 70 different authors, chose the best and brightest of Penguin’s history and presented them as the Pocket Penguins series. Each is 64 pages long. I want them all. I want this box.

The authors included: Eric Schlosser, Nick Hornby, Albert Camus, P.D. James, Richard Dawkins, India Knight, Marian Keyes, Jorge Luis Borges, Roald Dahl, Jonathan Safran Foer, Homer, Paul Theroux, Elizabeth David, Anais Nin, Antony Beevor, Gustave Flaubert, Anne Frank, James Kelman, Hari Kunzru, Simon Schama, William Trevor, George Orwell, Michael Moore, Helen Dunmore, J.K. Galbraith, Gervase Phinn, W.G. Sebald, Redmond O’Hanlon, Ali Smith, Sigmund Freud, Simon Armitage, Hunter S. Thompson, Vladimir Nabokov, Niall Ferguson, Muriel Spark, Steven Pinker, Tony Harrison, John Updike, Will Self, H.G. Wells, Noam Chomsky, Jamie Oliver, Virginia Woolf, Zadie Smith, John Mortimer, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Roger McGough, Ian Kershaw, Gabriel Garcia Marquez, Steven Runciman, Sue Townsend, Primo Levi, Alistair Cooke, William Boyd, Robert Graves, Melissa Bank, Truman Capote, David Lodge, Anton Chekhov, Claire Tomalin, David Cannadine, P.G. Wodehouse, Franz Kafka, Dave Eggers, Evelyn Waugh, Pat Barker, Joanthan Coe, John Steinbeck and Alain de Botton.

Holy shit.

Finally, the Spurs are beating the pants off of the Pistons. Serves the Pistons right for being involved in the fight that ended Reggie Miller’s chances for a championship ring.

Oh, and did I mention that Pocket Penguins collection?

This was lovingly handwritten on June 14th, 2005