I grabbed a copy of The Juliette Society at Barnes & Noble a few weeks ago. As of last week, I stopped reading it. An entire chapter dedicated to semen? That’s what probably did me in. I can’t explain why I bought the book. Maybe because it’s written by former pornographic actress Sasha Grey. That’s actually the only reason why I bought the book.
There are several books that line my shelves that have gone half-read or completely unread. Duma Key by Stephen King; Swann’s Way by Marcel Proust; The Inner Circle by T.C. Boyle; On the Road by Jack Kerouac. Just to name a few. Still, I continue skipping to the bookstore and picking up a few more. Today’s trip sent me home with The God Delusion and What’s Left of Me. It’s no secret that I’m a hoarder. Acknowledging the problem is half the battle, right? However, I have no illusions that I’ll beat this demon. You’ll probably read about me in the paper some day. The modern-day Collyer brother. My head resting beside the E.L. Doctorow book fictionalizing their lives.
The God Delusion was intended. I thought of picking up a Christopher Hitchens’ tome, as well, but something deterred me. Impulsive, I remembered a book suggested by Grace and searched fro that instead. I was greeted by a familiar face when I went to pay. The same cute girl (though I feel inclined to say lady) that handled my Solanin return. I fought the urge to relay my successful quest of finding a non-tainted copy of the manga because I’m sure she didn’t recognize me from Adam and the smile perched on her face was merely good costumer service. I also failed to mention that the copy I returned earlier this week found its way back to the self. Instead, I made a joke about hoping that I’m still a member. I fail at being flirtatious.
I think I’m getting the hang of talking to people again. It’s only a matter of time before I stop filling the void with books.
Chapin City Blues 