I've been coasting horizontally on a long drawn out fix of the devouring of hours of TV via my laptop. With nobody left to run with and barely any social activity to my name, other than the occasional playdate/smalltalk combo, and being crippled half assingly by a writers block brought on by or combatted with the hollow wail of liquid courage, I've been taking the easy route to escape. A horse/lap top shortcut through the breezy, pixilated Leone canyons,while digital indians crouch topside, waiting with arrows raised. Arrows named Fringe, Californication, Sons of Anarchy, Nurse Jackie, Weeds, Curb Your Enthusiasm, The Big C and No Reservations. I camp out at a coffee shop, nursing an iced coffee until the ice cubes get crushed in my teeth and download whole seasons of these shows that I've been privy to hearing about around the cyber cooler. Sneaking home in shame, is my middle name, while hoarding a bundle of tired torrents like they were vintage Kirby Comics.
I plank out on a bruised mattress night after night after the kid is asleep, headphones grafted...and drift off through 4-5 episode druggy chips of TEEEVEEE. WHHEEEEEEE. ZZZZZZZZZZZZ. Then , for all you legal freaks, I delete them.
Hooked like a savant. Counting plot twists and characters like dropped toothpicks. Forgetting everything by the next episode. Repeat. Nightly.
The half action of filling space void of comfort, contact and conversation is a sickness. And TV is such a pill. An extra strength, fast action gel- cap of a pill. I'm all "caught up" with these shows. And ready for more. I've got to get all Nance Reagan and just say no.
Gotta get back to the books. Reading is a challenge, a commitment..1 percent physical, 96 percent mental, 3 percent spiritual.
Reading takes time, more time than a child- rearing, breed focused, ladder- calling life will allow.
But what a world made of words are books. Different for everyone in interpretation, critical for a steady feast of education.
I'd like to share back and forth what we want to/will/are reading right now. How big is your pile? How strong is your urge? Drag us to your recommendations AND condemnations and please allow you to introduce yourself.
I'm finally getting back to: I Am Ozzy-By Ozzy
Mr. Peanut-By Adam Ross
Chronic City-By Jonathan Lethem
The Wisdom of the Heart-By Henry Miller
all purchased/borrowed over six months ago.
I want to read : Life-By Keith Richards
Moby Dick-By Melville
On Writing-By Stephen King
Open Up and Bleed(Iggy Pop bio) -By Paul Trynka
laying around on a shelf or in a small pile wherever a flat surface commands space in my apt.
I will peruse: The Pleasures of the Damned-Poems 1951-1993 By Charles Bukowski.
Just bought it.