Chances are you’re downloading some, if not all, of your literature these days. I’ve linked to it many times before, but I’m losing my self-consciousness about mentioning the medium because of its prevalence. If you haven’t mastered how to read digitally, perhaps you’re one of the many downloading favorite authors delivering the text themselves. It’s time to rename the bestseller list – meet the fastseller list, even faster digitally. Here comes the religion: Capote’s (un)Answered Prayers and 11 essays on secularism. Easy, big fella.

It’s good to have options.

So, today, you can have your cheeseburger, fries, onion rings, and milkshake with some light reading. Keep the computer at a safe distance. Mayonnaise is near impossible to clean out of a keyboard.

Vegetarians, vegans, and skeptics of red meat and fried food. Do not fear. Here is a look into David Foster Wallace’s private self-help library.

Also, just for fun, and for those of us who have always wondered and wanted, here is how to obtain your own copy of Charles Bukowski’s FBI files.

Authors want you to come meet, listen and purchase. Unfortunately, bookstore owners can’t afford to have you perusing their titles only to buy them online, so now you may have to pay the price of admission the next time you want to a signed copy. While you’re buying, look into shares of Spinoza and cash in your Descartes stock. 1997 Booker Prize winner Arundhati Roy has different opinions on capitalism. Whatever happened to Salinger’s orgone cannon? Or, for that matter, Jerry Falwell’s matchbox enema?

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Tom Williams is the author of the novella The Mimic’s Own Voice. His fiction, essays, and reviews have appeared in over thirty publications, including Boulevard, Barrelhouse, Indiana Review, The Main Street Rag, Night Train and Pleiades. A former James Michener Fellow, he has received individual artist fellowships from the Wisconsin Arts Board and the Arkansas Arts Council.

True story: The patron saint of lost objects has gone missing. St. Anthony of Padua, in a possible attempt to renew the faith of devout Catholics upon his return, or discovery, no longer resides in his cathedral home in Long Beach, California. It’s okay if you laugh, just don’t lose yourself in it. But, if you do, for your sake I hope that St. Anthony is found and returned.

The Three Little Kittens, They Lost Their Mittens

by Mother Goose

The three little kittens, they lost their mittens,
And they began to cry,
“Oh, mother dear, we sadly fear,
That we have lost our mittens.”
“What! Lost your mittens, you naughty kittens!
Then you shall have no pie.”
“Meow, meow, meow.”
“Then you shall have no pie.”
The three little kittens, they found their mittens,
And they began to cry,
“Oh, mother dear, see here, see here,
For we have found our mittens.”
“Put on your mittens, you silly kittens,
And you shall have some pie.”
“Purr, purr, purr,
Oh, let us have some pie.”
The three little kittens put on their mittens,
And soon ate up the pie,
“Oh, mother dear, we greatly fear,
That we have soiled our mittens.”
“What, soiled your mittens, you naughty kittens!”
Then they began to sigh,
“Meow, meow, meow,”
Then they began to sigh.
The three little kittens, they washed their mittens,
And hung them out to dry,
“Oh, mother dear, do you not hear,
That we have washed our mittens?”
“What, washed your mittens, then you’re good kittens,
But I smell a rat close by.”
“Meow, meow, meow,
We smell a rat close by.”