now that i've got things to do

lately, all i've wanted to do is read books. i had all the time in the world a while ago and instead i sat around patently not reading books, but now it hits me that, damnit, i love books. i read zadie smith's "on beauty" a few weeks ago and really enjoyed that. it's never happened quite like this before, where i'd live something, and then see it reflected in art 15 minutes later. the narrative to "on beauty" mirrored my life for like 4 days straight and shit. shit was kinda bogus, but pretty sweet i guess.

there's something very mysterious and awe-inducing about everything you need to know being right in front of you, and it just depends what page you open up to, or what you'll let yourself see or hear or know and to see the visiblevisceral progess of flipping one page at a time until suddenly you're in the middle of the book. unless you are me, and you/me are reading "cloud atlas," and three weeks later you're/i'm still on page 40. progress is just for the weak!

one thing i need to work on is posture. how do you properly hold a book? i think sitting up is ideal, but sometimes you just want to lay down cuh.