entrails

I'm reading Chuck Palahniuk's Guts. Good thing this slimy short story is available online, because now I know what the hosannas are all about. (People are shoving Palahniuk in my face, saying I'm the type of guy who would enjoy his sick brand of humor. Whether that's a compliment or not is something I'm still figuring out.)

And so I intend to go deeper into the madness. National Bookstore has given me Php5000 worth of GCs and one of the titles I plan to score from it is Haunted, Palahniuk's latest book and incidentally the one containing Guts. I saw a hardcover copy yesterday at NB-Cubao, but since I hate lugging those hefty motherfuckers around, I asked for the paperback version. The saleslady, who looked like she didn't know Palahniuk from Gary Lising, said they don't have it. I went home with an Umberto Eco instead.

Maybe I'll just settle for Survivor, Palahniuk's 1999 novel. It has better reviews, and it's available in NB-Farmers. Also, suicide cults interest me more than bizarre forms of masturbation. So why not?