I Lost The Plot For A While

I Don't Want My Books To Exclude Anyone, But If They Have To, Then I Would Rather They Excluded The People Who Feel They Are Too Smart For Them!

I Have Less Time, Less Tolerance For Bullshit, More Interest In Good Taste, More Confidence In My Own Judgement. The Culture With Which I Surround Myself Is A Reflection Of My Personality And The Circumstances Of My Life, Which Is In Part How It Should Be.

So This Is Supposed To Be About The How, And When, And Why, And What Of Reading -- About The Way That, When Reading Is Going Well, One Book Leads To Another And To Another, A Paper Trail Of Theme And Meaning; And How, When It's Going Badly, When Books Don't Stick Or Take, When Your Mood And The Mood Of The Book Are Fighting Like Cats, You'd Rather Do Anything But Attempt The Next Paragraph, Or Reread The Last One For The Tenth Time.

Most People Get Suicide, I Guess; Most People, Even If It's Hidden Deep Down Inside Somewhere, Can Remember A Time In Their Lives When They Thought About Whether They Really Wanted To Wake Up The Next Day. Wanting To Die Seems Like It Might Be A Part Of Being Alive.

There Isn't So Much To Be Afraid Of, Out There. I Can Remember Thinking It Was Funny To Find That Out, On The Last Night Of My Life; I'd Spent The Rest Of It Being Afraid Of Everything.