I finally finished re-reading "Cryptonomicon" this weekend and even though I loved it I feel this tremendous weight has been lifted off me. I've been concentrating so intently on finishing its 900 page bulk that I really haven't let myself read anything else. Suddenly, I'm free to make some moves on my new Marc Bolan biography, as well as tons of others. Last night, I made plans with Capote, then went to bed with a story by Kipling. This morning I flirted with the section of "The Turk" that talks about Turing. And now I've got a bargain bin biography of Tesla making eyes at me from across the desk.