Thumbing through the pages of Found, the new book compiled by Found magazine’s Davy Rothbart (not pictured), I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry. The same twisted impulse that draws me to the couch on a beautiful Saturday to watch a Real World marathon caused me to devour the entire volume in one sitting. In addition to providing the freak show of human emotion I so crave, this book allowed me to be a double voyeur: A collection of (yep) found letters, drawings, lists, and other random notations, Found is a portal into not just the sad and sick hearts of our anonymous countrymen, but also those of the finders themselves. The stories behind the discoveries range from hilarious to heartbreaking (one couple mailed some worthless but cherished trinkets back to an elderly woman who occupied a rental car before them), and many who sent their finds to Rothbart provided titles that are as funny as the scraps themselves (an e-mail beginning “Jenn, How are you doing? How was your weekend? And how is Victoria Secrets doing? This is my favorite store” is called simply “Love, Dad”). You’ll come for the unbridled hostility (left on a car windshield: “Thanks to you my handicapped wife could not get into our house. I hope you die on the way back to Michigan—Red Wings suck—Fuck you!!”), but you’ll stay for the deepest thoughts of people who, themselves, seem a little lost (a woman’s list of goals: “1. Go to church. Find God…2. Party a lot. Meet new people. Start drinking once a week…”). Rothbart speaks at 8 p.m. Thursday, May 6, on the Black Cat’s Backstage, 1811 14th St. NW. $5. (202) 667-7960. (Anne Marson)