A writing mood

I'm in a definite mood to write. Unfortunately I have no topic in mind. That means whatever I write about can't be all that pressing. It couldn't be actually on my mind, since I have no ideas at the moment. I just want to write is all. Now I think I could come up with a topic easily enough, but would it really be justice for that poor little topic? It's like it's not being discussed for its own sake, but rather for the sake of my mood to be writing. Ahh well. Poor little topic. Maybe I'll make it up to the poor thing at some point. Of course I say maybe. I'm not about to be roped into talking about whatever topic it will be simply out of a feeling of guilt towards it, mainly because I don't feel that guilty or care particularly strongly for it. Well I suppose that goes without saying. But anyway... onto a topic.

Well damn. Having some difficulty here. I guess I could write about the mystery I read yesterday. It was kinda interesting, though unfortunately I'd read it already and remembered the ending halfway through. Mysteries have no reread value. I like to reread books, but you just can't do it with mysteries. It's quite frustrating. I had forgotten all the details (which were quite clever and interesting), but I remembered the actual culprit. Thus, all the winding that lead itself to culprit didn't have me nearly as much in its sway. The book lost a lot of emotion from me knowing the ending, but I still wanted to read it because I had forgotten how we got there. Masterfully done really. I never saw it coming. I remember when I was younger I always wanted to predict the murderer in a mystery novel. It would have given me no end of satisfaction. But Agatha Christie is too good. There's no predicting her. 9 times out of 10, it turns out to be the one person you were sure it wasn't. I thought maybe things would be different now that I'm older. I predict the endings to things with some frequency now. I see some of the literary techniques the authors use to keep us guessing and then I can tell what they're trying to hide from how they're trying to hide it. Unfortunately, all my guessing skills lead to nothing. Of course, it's hard to tell when you already know who did it. I couldn't exactly guess. I'm going to need to find an Agatha Christie I haven't read before. But I want to stop reading for a bit and get back to my busy lifestyle in Berkeley as well. Sigh. Perhaps another summer I will be able to give my deductive skills another run.

I was expecting to write about mysteries for only a line or two, but I've made a respectable blog entry out of it. I think that satisfies my immediate craving for writing. Until next time, faithful blog readers.