that isn't romantic.

when i lived in the pacific northwest, i associated cicadas somewhere in my brain with poetically romantic or languid summer evenings in steamy, exotic locales. i read a lot of novels. you know what? cicadas are loud. and big. and gross. and loud. just really loud. this bug is giving me a headache right now. no one's gotta mate with you this late, sir! give it up! but anyway. novels are falling by the wayside lately, as i delve more deeply into...huh. now that i think about it, i've been reading a lot of books by people who agree with me. must read some novels pretty soon to shake things up. next on the reading list: grub. anyone else read it?