Original copy:  Opening a book is like starting a relationship. You enter prepared to invest time, effort, and a certain fidelity. In return you want enrichment, happiness even?  One of two things normally happen, the first in the vast majority. Scenario 1: Page 50 rolls around and you find yourself estranged by sentences like irritating statements by a partner. You long for other words like other bodies. You give it the old favorite “It's not you, it's me” and you're over and out. But it's ok because at least you gave it your best shot. Scenario 2:  You hit the "True Love" page. You realise "This book is the sh*t!" Every page just gets better. Love exists, the chick-flicks were right! With every word it turns itself to gold right there in your hands. You ask yourself how is it possible you didn't meet before, all those lonely nights you endured. And then you say “It doesn't matter because I have you now, like the vow says, to have and to hold.”
 Original copy:  Own a good book and live on a knife edge: You want to force all your friends to read it. You want to clamp their heads in a vice and prop their eyelids open and sneak around with the eye drops and say. "Read that sentence. THAT SENTENCE! NOW! NOW BOW DOWN AND WORSHIP!" And then one day, the request hits the fan: “So, that book you're always talking about, I'd love to read it." Dot dot freaking dot. You smile, but in your head you're doing a frantic credential check of this scumbag posing as your friend for the past 15 years. Somehow you always knew it would come to this. You shouldn't have snitched. But then you find yourself lying with a scary sincerity. “Someone else has it right now but I'd be happy to lie lie and lie some more.” You find that at some point you committed to these pages bound by glue to protect them from the jam-fingers, spine-benders and smudgers who call themselves family and friends. 
 Original copy:  Sometimes while reading, your attention escapes the page like a canary flying the coop. But you're still skimming along, and then it happens. Pop! Through the eye and into the brain for a delicious synaptic explosion like a chocolate fudge ice-cream headache: A shiny new neural pathway forged in a brain scuffed by tv: A combination of words put together just so. JUST. SO. You marvel at the fact that you’ve spent x many years on this planet and consumed a couple of million word combinations, but never this one. This one; a sentence-sized revelation. And you are grateful to the creator. And the world is new for a minute or two. And you carry on, believing there will be more flares in the darkness of dumbness all around you.
prev / next