I just recently visited the Gene Autry museum of the American West, and I picked up a cheap book called "It Still Moves: Lost Songs, Lost Highways and the Search for the Next American Music." I'm inconceivably thrilled to read it.
The book starts with the following epigram: "A place belongs forever to whoever claims it hardest, remembers it most obsessively, wrenches it from itself, shapes it, renders it, loves it so radically that he remakes it in his image." - Joan Didion
In the meantime I am plugging through Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance and The Chronicles of Narnia.