Stepping away from Dandelion Wine for a bit. I'm finding it hard to lock into the feel (or whatever) of the book. It's not really about a boy's thoughts and ruminations on life, it's really just Bradbury in the driver's seat aka the 12-year-old kid. Maybe this is how he wants to have remembered his childhood. Kids aren't typically this introspective nor are adults this sugary and infantile. I will definitely finish the book but for now, I need a little break because it's not hitting all the right spots the way it did the first time.
I did finish Thomas Ligotti - Death Poems, and Tom Piccirilli- The Dog Syndrome and Other Sick Puppies. The former isn't Ligotti's best work (there is zero plot, it's all just prose poems about how much existence sucks and is pointless), the latter was a fantastic read with one of the heaviest final lines after an already tragic story ("There must be a sequel to my life.") Damn. The stories are definitely horror but are still very human(e) and I think the theme in most of these is how much we're willing to debase ourselves for a little human touch/caring/love/attention/whatever.
Reading: Karen Hall - Dark Debts