A day in the life of a book
Being of the age where I am old enough to be nostalgic and young enough to keep up with the "times", I am revisiting old joys of my youth. Most remain untouched by time, some come in
"modern" packages and some are weirdly out of place.
Books. Paper, ink and glue. The siblings of my childhood. In those moments, I am not alone but surrounded by friends and nemisises; laughing, crying , sighing and wondering about all the minds that conjure these worlds to some form of reality. I cannot for the life of me remember the last time I read a book in day, a memory somewhere far from here, however, present when called upon. I devoured " Middlesex", starved for a time when that was all I was responsible for, reading and learning.
It takes time to prepare, experience and process most events and we just don't do enough of it here in the "modern" world. My experiences with "disappearing" into other countries just was not to be this time. It was meant to be here, now, with myself as the "dark continent" embarking on a safari. I have spotted the long extinct 8 tracks of early adolescence , their predecessor, the 45!! and the endangered species of cassettes and vinyl. Most all now mutated into the compact CD. The first 45 I ever bought was in 1970, "Lola" The Kinks. I new this was a watershed moment and little did I know that I would continue these expeditions to this day. The Best Buy now replaces the record store within walking distance in my childhood. Tuesdays are still release dates and there is a seemingly endless supply. So far, so good.
Drawers and closets can contain interesting stuff for those who check theirs out once in a while. I found a lost passport and have more stamps to add to the travel collection. I" lost" things no longer needed for the rest of my journey. I've unhitched some rides and reaquainted myself with others.
I will adapt also to phones ringing in my pocket in the store. I will open some pathway in my brain that says "These things happen to people now" and I will join the legions of people bringing what was once reserved for the home only, out in public, just a wee bit. The verdict on text messaging is no contest. Not in the legal definition, per se. Just don't want to go there. Regular keyboards are where I stop. Texting is literally, too little and too late. Get in touch with me the old fashioned way: through email.
"modern" packages and some are weirdly out of place.
Books. Paper, ink and glue. The siblings of my childhood. In those moments, I am not alone but surrounded by friends and nemisises; laughing, crying , sighing and wondering about all the minds that conjure these worlds to some form of reality. I cannot for the life of me remember the last time I read a book in day, a memory somewhere far from here, however, present when called upon. I devoured " Middlesex", starved for a time when that was all I was responsible for, reading and learning.
It takes time to prepare, experience and process most events and we just don't do enough of it here in the "modern" world. My experiences with "disappearing" into other countries just was not to be this time. It was meant to be here, now, with myself as the "dark continent" embarking on a safari. I have spotted the long extinct 8 tracks of early adolescence , their predecessor, the 45!! and the endangered species of cassettes and vinyl. Most all now mutated into the compact CD. The first 45 I ever bought was in 1970, "Lola" The Kinks. I new this was a watershed moment and little did I know that I would continue these expeditions to this day. The Best Buy now replaces the record store within walking distance in my childhood. Tuesdays are still release dates and there is a seemingly endless supply. So far, so good.
Drawers and closets can contain interesting stuff for those who check theirs out once in a while. I found a lost passport and have more stamps to add to the travel collection. I" lost" things no longer needed for the rest of my journey. I've unhitched some rides and reaquainted myself with others.
I will adapt also to phones ringing in my pocket in the store. I will open some pathway in my brain that says "These things happen to people now" and I will join the legions of people bringing what was once reserved for the home only, out in public, just a wee bit. The verdict on text messaging is no contest. Not in the legal definition, per se. Just don't want to go there. Regular keyboards are where I stop. Texting is literally, too little and too late. Get in touch with me the old fashioned way: through email.
posted by celeste @ 9:02 AM
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