the narrator is constantly assigning headlines, trying- in his head- to be a real newspaperman.

Brought to us by the same idiot that gave us “Brokeback mountain”, Shipping News is at least an enjoyable read. And not least of which for the fact that Quoyle has that habit of writing stories in his head.

I do that, all the time, and it only recently dawned on me that other people don’t. I picked up a can of fresh propane last night, on the way home drove through an apartment complex, saw a woman unloading pillows from the back of her car and some cloth bags of clothes.

As I drove by, I already- in my head- had her moving from some eastern town where she was more prosperous. She had on Roberto Cavalli Jeans, but they had become frayed as had she, they no longer fit her in the ass, alcoholism and age had taken it’s toll on her nether regions. She walked to the apartment, a walkout with sliding patio doors, and dropped the bags on the floor and threw the pillows in a corner before closing the glass door and drawing the blinds. I imagined her wrapping herself in a blanket and sleeping on the floor after downing a shot of gin, and sleeping, happy to be shed of whatever she had left behind.

Of course the real story was probably nothing like that, but that was the story my brain played for me. Everyone i meet, every encounter I have, almost everyone I see, these stories of their possible pasts and futures play in my head. Most of the time much more dramatic and interesting, probably, than the truth. But it’s in my nature, and I never stop.

I’ve probably been overdue for a check-up from the neck-up for quite some time now.