Right quick, let me tell you what I’ve been reading, since I’m not writing so much lately.

Currently reading: Probability Zero, by Vox Day is on sale (and so are a zillion other books on the Based Book Sale). I’m finding it a delightful read. Among the things we can credit Vox Day with, apparently, is the Intel Inside slogan. You only have to read a little ways to find out what I mean. He’s like Forrest Gump, but not retarded. He’s just been everywhere, man. This is an important book. Read it whether you like math or not. He makes it very easy to grasp.

Also going to be reading: Hardcoded: AI and the End of the Scientific Consensus (The Mathematics of Evolution) , by the same Vox Day.

Both of these are temporarily just $.99, so hurry up and get in there.

Also, this is totally free, and written by my favorite person in the world. Jesse Dyer, whoever that is, has a bunch of short stories. His editress (ahem) has not gotten around to fixing erroneous apostrophes in the possessive “its”, so overlook those. Everybody has quirks. One of Jesse’s is “its/it’s”. I particularly like Losing Things (just breaks my heart, like a lot of them). There are a bunch of great, quick reads in the fiction section.

There were always toys going missing. My folks said I didn’t appreciate anything.
One birthday, it was a Triformer. Remember those? It was a Transformer that turned into two different things as well as a robot. It was terribly complicated; like an equation made out of metal and plastic. I remember when I got it, I threw the instructions away without looking at them. I couldn’t have articulated it then, but it wasn’t the object itself I was so interested in; it was the mind behind it. How could someone have made this thing? How could you build it?I was going to summer camp, back then. I couldn’t be left home, you see. So there I was, on the bus to camp. Kids squabbling and talking and laughing all around me, and I wasn’t hearing a word of it, because I had this object in front of me that I’d owned for about eleven hours, and I was still trying to figure it out.I finally realized that the leg joint had to twist as it extended in order to clear the wheels, and as I turned it, it.. just.. vanished. My hands closed over empty air.I screamed and screamed and screamed.The kids on the bus were.. less than understanding.

Click to read more…

Should I worry that he’s always killing off the wife, though?

Another internet friend of mine, Zaklog (real name is out there, but I don’t know if he uses it) has a lovely talent for stories. I linked you to a couple of them before. He also has a collection in the Based Book Sale called Signals from Noise: S.F. & F. Stories of Finding Meaning in Chaos, well worth full price, but $.99 right now!

I’m also currently reading a book about trail running, one about ultra marathons, a science history called The Disappearing Spoon, Bleak House, and Perfect Murder, Perfect Town (the Jon Benet Ramsey murder). I am, after all, a middle aged housewife. Interest in true crime is obligatory at [rounds to 50], isn’t it?

What are you reading, dear reader? Let’s get on the same page.