...OR why I prefer to buy books.
I look out the window at the sliver of the sky cut by the building intruding my view. The sun is beginning to set. A warm reprieve of sunshine and blue sky begins the finale into a colder evening and I begin to realize I might want to head out before it gets cold.
I am at the University library attached to a free computer while browsing various internet pages. I’d like to lie and say I worked on job searches today. Wouldn’t I look like a productive bastard? Truth be told, it’s a productive-less work day at my public make shift office. I did do some work for a committee I am on, but it took less then 10 minutes.
The rest of the time, I have read the New York Times and the Washington Post online. I updated my status on facebook and tried to find a new book to read. This means looking at Powell Books recommendations and seeing if the University library has them available. Not a book. Every single thing I want to read is checked out, 2-weeks before they might return and I am left leaving this place empty handed.
I suppose I will pick some random aisles of books and see if a title speaks to me. It won’t be the cover. This library strips all books to their bland basic form and its just rows and rows of utilitarian covers to greet me.
I want something to read that reflects my mood. Rusted thoughts, clapped down by the bitter cold of winter and dark nights, ever-so-ready to loosen up the sphincter and begin to trust that light and warmth are possible again. Um, probably means I should look for a comedy, psychological drama, or hey, wait…
The Botany of Desire by Michael Pollin. I have been meaning to read this book.
I search the library catalogue.
Damn. It’s checked out. :[