old wine, old bottle.
March 2, 2011 § 7 Comments
my eyes are hot and dry and i’m tearing up at completely inappropriate moments because i have been watching way too much TV. my eyes are fighting it and my brain is so incredibly sick of the theme to boston legal, but here i am still watching denny crane say ‘denny crane!’
it’s funny every time. i swear it is.
(it’s not even that good a show! what is wrong with me?)
i have still been doing some halfhearted reading though, virginia woolf’s to the lighthouse. by the way, does it look like the quality of my reading has gone up? because yes, of course it’s gone up… for the first time in many years, there is literally no limit to what book i can get hold of. this is because i’m now reading PDFs. as a habit. i know! cue collective gasp. i hear you.
because i am rather attached to my eyes and would love for them to keep on working, i allowed myself the occasional PDF strictly as a way to fill the time in between two paper books, but the internet’s incomparable ability to supply ebooks makes this particular task – an uphill one at the best of times, a slippery one. i discovered to my dismay that slippery slopes are – as per reputation – slippery.
which is all my way of saying, i now read PDFs exclusively.
this means, of course, that i can no longer unblushingly wax lyrical about the fragrance of the pages of books or the romance of vintage dustjackets, or bemoan modern technology’s culpability in the impersonalisation of books… i.e., i’ve lost the fellowship of my bibliophilic, bespectacled brethren.
i don’t appear to have lost my ability to be annoyingly alliterative, however. in fact i still have ‘annoying’ covered rather well –> onomatopoeia (hell yes i can spell it) <– look! this is me showing off! annoyance is still a forté (<–look! french derivative word! with the accent and all!)
a friend and i went grocery shopping recently, armed as usual with strict budget and limited funds. what we did end up buying, however, was one large block of feta cheese. we also bought one tin of preserved pineapple. let’s recap – with the money intended to be spent on necessities such as shampoo, conditioner, soap and detergent, we bought an enormous, enormously overpriced block of sheep cheese.
so what has happened is, i am presently taking baths with a rather ancient (and tiny) hamam soap that i suspect i stole from a hotel somewhere, and washing my hair only when strictly necessary. i smell like my grandmother; if the hair gets any greasier, i will look like her as well.
i am, however, eating a hell of a lot of excellent cheese (with pineapple), and i am pleased to report that resultant morale in Room No. AAA (hidden for reasons of privacy) in Hostel BBB (ditto) in College ABC (come on, you know this one) is excellent. morale is excellent, dear reader. this proves my point that cheese can solve anything. plus there has got to be some redeeming value in any transaction that allows the reading of virginia woolf alongside the eating of expensive cheese with preserved fruit.
i am such a snob, sigh..
so strictly in terms of economics, the sheer extent of satisfaction resulting from this set of transactions (that my mother had the temerity to term ‘ill-advised’ – imagine!) means that they were a success.
at this point in my life, i truly have little to ask for. i have never felt more the helmsman (woman) of my life, the captain of my soul. it is at moments like this that you almost wish you believed in a god, because you want somebody to thank for this largesse that is your life. it’s true, i am happy.
once upon a time, i used to have one friend; today i have others. the only thing i’ve really learnt in the making of these friends is that human beings are not interchangeable, which is to say, the entry of many people does not make up for the exit of one. there are many kinds of loneliness a man can experience, some of which he cannot rely on himself to put an end to.
to my old friend – perhaps only ever in my dreams – to my one imaginary square peg in his own square hole – today i am happy. i remember you.
undoubtedly the only way is forward, the only option is strength, and the only optimism is conceit. still, memories exist to some purpose, right? right?
maybe they were made for days like today.