Reading Light
Up on the shelf in front of me is Jimenez, Swift, Hemingway, Brecht, Kerouac, Kafka, Joyce, some Kotzwinkle, a large chunk of Brautigan, the minor works of Hesse but including his big hit, Steppenwolf, and my cub scout handbooks. I used to have a vintage Elvis Gospel album up there but things disappear over time.
There was for a few years some mild concern regarding my sanity and during that period conservative elements of the family took action and one or two books disappeared as well, for example, Trotsky's Permanent Revolution, and one of those books that contain supposed satanic verses. To tell the truth I was scared to read that second one, the mad ravings of whatshisname.
Over there to the left used to be what I thought by now would be the complete works of P. K. Dick but that collection is apparently being enjoyed by someone else; no man, I ain't naming you, I'm just saying.
At some point this ridiculous flittering-around lifestlye of mine precluded me from carrying several hundred pounds of books around with me so I just left them here in this boyhood bedroom and started using public libraries.
And then as more time passed other premium books took wing and some less than premium books were added by others where gaps occured and up there now I see titles like How To Live With Yourself And Like It. What a long title that is. I see a Billy Graham biography and scattered throughout two or three books about Hitler.
I do not see that book that was offered during my faithful stint with the Methodist Youth Foundation, How Far Can I Go?, which I thought was going to be, based on the cover teasers, a literal guidebook telling me how far I could go with my girlfriend, but it fell way short of that expectation and I was left to my own fumbling devices, and a less than stellar success rate. And speaking of devices the book had no chapter entitled--Devices, Where, Why, and How.
There's an interesting title over there, 20 Million Careless Capitalists, I know I never read that; and Bulls, Bears, and Dr. Freud is a pretty snappy title also.
I'm not actually reading a lot of book length stuff lately, I just read the titles, so if you ask me if I have read Eleanor Early's, New Orleans Holiday, I will be able to answer honestly, oh yes, I sure did. Try to trip me up by asking what its about and you know I'm going to tell you--300 pages, or so.
I think this is my favourite christmas story yet. nice one, jimlouis. The books of mine at my Mom's have been pilfered (by me) and dog-eared (also by me): my old Ray Bradbury collection, my brother's friend's chess books, Pogo, Doonesbury, Catch 22 (how many times can you read the same book? I've lost count on this one). The books I claim for myself are always disappearing. Which is a good thing - better to be read than dead (sitting on a shelf).
Thank you.
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Up on the shelf in front of me is Jimenez, Swift, Hemingway, Brecht, Kerouac, Kafka, Joyce, some Kotzwinkle, a large chunk of Brautigan, the minor works of Hesse but including his big hit, Steppenwolf, and my cub scout handbooks. I used to have a vintage Elvis Gospel album up there but things disappear over time.
There was for a few years some mild concern regarding my sanity and during that period conservative elements of the family took action and one or two books disappeared as well, for example, Trotsky's Permanent Revolution, and one of those books that contain supposed satanic verses. To tell the truth I was scared to read that second one, the mad ravings of whatshisname.
Over there to the left used to be what I thought by now would be the complete works of P. K. Dick but that collection is apparently being enjoyed by someone else; no man, I ain't naming you, I'm just saying.
At some point this ridiculous flittering-around lifestlye of mine precluded me from carrying several hundred pounds of books around with me so I just left them here in this boyhood bedroom and started using public libraries.
And then as more time passed other premium books took wing and some less than premium books were added by others where gaps occured and up there now I see titles like How To Live With Yourself And Like It. What a long title that is. I see a Billy Graham biography and scattered throughout two or three books about Hitler.
I do not see that book that was offered during my faithful stint with the Methodist Youth Foundation, How Far Can I Go?, which I thought was going to be, based on the cover teasers, a literal guidebook telling me how far I could go with my girlfriend, but it fell way short of that expectation and I was left to my own fumbling devices, and a less than stellar success rate. And speaking of devices the book had no chapter entitled--Devices, Where, Why, and How.
There's an interesting title over there, 20 Million Careless Capitalists, I know I never read that; and Bulls, Bears, and Dr. Freud is a pretty snappy title also.
I'm not actually reading a lot of book length stuff lately, I just read the titles, so if you ask me if I have read Eleanor Early's, New Orleans Holiday, I will be able to answer honestly, oh yes, I sure did. Try to trip me up by asking what its about and you know I'm going to tell you--300 pages, or so.
- jimlouis 12-26-2003 5:53 pm
I think this is my favourite christmas story yet. nice one, jimlouis. The books of mine at my Mom's have been pilfered (by me) and dog-eared (also by me): my old Ray Bradbury collection, my brother's friend's chess books, Pogo, Doonesbury, Catch 22 (how many times can you read the same book? I've lost count on this one). The books I claim for myself are always disappearing. Which is a good thing - better to be read than dead (sitting on a shelf).
- sally mckay 12-27-2003 10:14 am [add a comment]
Thank you.
- jimlouis 12-27-2003 6:27 pm [add a comment]