Tonight I finished Bryan Batt's memoir,
She Ain't Heavy, She's My Mother, and it was so freakin' good! I've had it sitting on my bookshelf for so long but I'm glad I picked it up this month. It was a great escape from the oodles of stress that keeps coming at me in tsunami sized waves. I'd light a cigarette, crack open the book and be transported to New Orleans or Manhattan or Los Angeles and for those brief moments I felt calm and utterly absorbed in his storytelling.
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