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2005-09-14 @ 11:29 p.m. |
Everytime I move I get rid of about 25-75 books, and this time was no different. I have this thing for books, you see. I buy them. Lots of them. Usually at garage sales for 50 cents or at rummage sales at the end of the day when you can fill a huge grocery bag for a dollar. Yup. I�m quite a connoiseur of books. The funny thing is....I don�t read them. I just HAVE them. I used to be an avid reader as a kid. I was always the geek kid in the summer reading program at the library who would always win the "Most Books Read" Contest during the summer. I guess it was because my childhood wasn�t exactly idyllic. It was kinda like �Psycho� and �The Lost Weekend� and �Halloween� all sort of dwooshed up together. And to this day, my brother Guido Obnoxious, is still whining about how lucky I was and what a great childhood I had and how spoiled I was. Yeah, right. Of course, his was worse, its true (think Dickens, with abuse thrown in), but mine also resulted in the need for 30 years of therapy. And yet still when I was talking to my mom last night, he once again was telling her how LUCKY I was even these days. LUCKY, LUCKY, LUCKY! Oh Lucky Me. I live on disability, food stamps, section eight, I haven�t had a vacation in va-never years and my car is dead. Kinda sounds like �Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous� doesn�t it? But what was I talking about? Oh....books. Anyways, I�ve got a lot of them, and some of them I don�t even remember buying. Like sometimes I wonder...do I have an evil twin who goes out and buys books when I�m not looking like this one: �The History of Wood Furniture 1756-1916�. Because I actually found that when I was packing one of my 300 boxes of books this last month. Of course, it might have just surreptitiously jumped into my bag when I was buying something more interesting like that book about Earth�s Mysterious Places (my head?) or that book about Hershey, Pennsylvania, circa 1963 or that Diabetic Cookbook. Fortunately, this last time I moved I did get rid of about 35 books. I donated about 10-12 books about recovering from sexual abuse to the local rape ctr. I never read them....so I might as well, put them to use. I sold some others to several used book stores down on James Street. I could have gotten some cash out of the deal, and of course, I really needed cash, but the lure of bartering for MORE books, how could I not? So I ended up getting not one but two art books about Kandinski. Two you say? Why would you need TWO books on Kandinski, witty? Exactly. Its an illness. I must have books. My current bookshelves? They don�t make any sense. Alphabetize them? You�ve got to be kidding. I�m Aquarius. I get distracted by shiny things walking from my bedroom to the bathroom every morning. And what�s funny is that I worked in libraries throughout high school, throughout college and even after I graduated from college. My favorite all time job was at Waldenbooks. Can you guess why? Boooooooks!! So my poor books are all helter skelter. They are not arranged in any particular order (size or alphabetically) and I actually think, even though I was only shoving them into the shelves to get them out of boxes, that there was some sort of anarchy afoot. Because I was just looking over at this one shelf and it went something like this: Now does that row of books make any sense to you? Yeah, me neither. Have I read any of those books? Only the one about the horoscopes. I got that in high school when I used to fancy myself as an astrologer and I�d do astrology charts for people (I�m Aquarius, Leo Rising, Moon in Sagittarius, aren�t you excited?). And ok, I might have snuck a peek at a few passages from "The Hite Report", ok? Ya happy? Its not like I have any recent practical experience in that area, except for perhaps the masturbatory chapters. The rest? They�re all largely unread. And the scary part? I can hardly wait to add to my collection. Older Entries |
Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty |
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