Sunday, November 11, 2012

The Danger Of Books

A book is a dangerous gift.
When you give a book to a reader you take a chance.
Readers have their thing. Their author, their subject, or they have things they won't read about, that don't interest them.
I am widely read but I require good writing. I read all over the spectrum but it better be f***ing good. Well written.
If somebody gives you a book and you dig it, that is quite a gift.
It opens up a whole new world. Especially if it is an author you haven't read.
All of a sudden you have this person who captivates you, who took you away for a few days to a place you dug. Somebody you didn't even know existed. That always blows me away.
You want to know more about the author and you want to read more of his or her books. It gives you a new place to go, a new world to explore or new worlds to explore.
I despair of ever reading everything I want to read. I have to piss my valuable time away working a dead end job. A job that drains me with it's meaninglessness. Sucks my energy and enthusiasm, kills my spirit.
Just like your job does to you.
It severely limits my life, it drastically reduces my ability to spend time doing what I love, and it gives me nothing back. Not enough money, no hope of advancement, no reward, no satisfaction.
What a f***ing crime.
At this point in time, reading is the only thing I have.
I am running out of luck, if I ever even had any, and I am banging my head against the wall for a ridiculously insulting paycheck that any enterprising teenager could out earn.
My son Keith recently lent me a book that I started nibbling at. Now I am gobbling it up.
Thank God. It is taking me away for the brief moments I have to enjoy it.
A book is a dream, it is eternity, it is a reality to escape reality, to give the soul a chance to feel something, to breathe a little.
Share books carefully and share them well.
You might save a life.

No comments:

Post a Comment