Do you suffer from BADD (Book Attention Deficit Disorder)?

I think I have Book Attention Deficiet Disorder, or BADD.

Currently, these are the books I'm reading: Voices of Dragons by Carrie Vaughn, Negotiating with the Dead by Margaret Atwood, On Writing Well by William Zinsser, Creating Minds: An Anatomy of Creativity by Howard Gardner, and some freelance writing book by Robert Bly, which is in the back seat of my SUV, along with Stephen King's Bag of Bones and a Ray Bradbury short story collection. On my dinning room table sits two YA books I want to, at least, scan through and two books on novel writing that I'm reading for the second time. Last week I bought Anna Karenina and Richard Price's Lush Life, which looks really good and is sitting on the futon in my study. As I write this post, I keep staring over at it, sitting there, waiting for me to pick it up, show it some love. If I could focus and get through one book at time, I might be able finish the books I really want to read, put the others back on the bookshelf, and cozy up Price's urban yarn.

Okay, between the last sentence and this one, I gave in, picked it up, and read the first 10 pages. From page 10:

The kid sighs, tries not to look at the barely curious locals coming out of the Banco de Ponce ATM center and the Dunkin' Donuts, the college kids hopping in and out of taxis.
"C'mon. Do right by me. I'll do right by you." Lugo absently tosses the baggie from hand to hand, drops it, picks it up.
"Do right like how?"
"I want a gun."
"A what? I don't know a gun."
"You don't have to know a gun. But you know someone who knows someone, right?"
"Aw, man ..."
"For starters, you know who you bought this shit from, right?"
"I don't know any guns, man. You got forty dollars a week there. I paid for it with my own money, 'cause it helps me relax, helps me party. Everybody I know is like, go to work, go to school, get high. That's it."
"Huh ... so like, there's no one you could call, say, 'Yo, I just got jacked in the PJs. I need me a onetime whistle, can I meet you at such and such?"
"A whistle?"
Lugo makes a finger gun.
"You mean a hammer?"
"A hammer, a whistle ..." Lugo turns away and tightens his pony-tail.
"Pfff..." The kid looks off, then, "I know a knife."
Lugo laughs. "My mother has a knife."

Now, where else am I going to find dialogue like that? This is how it starts. Add another book to the list. I know I've got it. I've got it BADD.