like you don’t know what’s going on anymore. Like you don’t care about anything anymore. You’ve lost motivation to do anything. Your mind is set on too many things that you are confused about your feelings, and you can’t explain how you feel either. The feeling of emptiness, and feeling that barely anyone is there for you. Feeling that no one understands you anymore. And it seems like there is nothing to look forward to anymore.
“The library smells like old books — a thousand leather doorways into other worlds. I hear silence, like the mind of God. I feel a presence in the empty chair beside me. The librarian watches me suspiciously. But the library is a sacred place, and I sit with the patron saint of readers. Pulsing goddess light moves through me for one moment like a glimpse of eternity instantly forgotten. She is gone. I smell mold, I hear the clock ticking, I see an empty chair. Ask me now and I’ll say this is just a place where you can’t play music or eat. She’s gone. The library sucks.”— Laura Whitcomb (A Certain Slant of Light)
The only way to actually get anything written is to sit down and make yourself write. It’s never something that just happens with no effort. So that’s what I’m doing today: cover letters all morning in hopes of finally finding employment and working on the novel this afternoon. I have to lift myself out of this funk…although maybe the funk will help with the writing?
“And at the end of the day, I’m pretty convinced that etiquette is in large part about knowing when other people might give a shit about your opinions (which is, let’s face it, almost never) and knowing how to stop projecting yourself all over other people’s lives.”—QFT from what will surely be one of my new favorite things on the Internet, Don’t Do This. (via bookavore)
The crisp pages of the paperback feel comfortable in my hands. A clean scent of an unread narrative drifts through the air, begging me to discover the secrets hidden between the lines. Skipping past the first few pages, I turn to the first chapter, my eyes eagerly devouring the opening line: “If you really want to hear about it, the first thing you’ll probably want to know is where I was born, and what my lousy childhood was like, and how my parents were occupied and all before they had me, and all that David Copperfield kind of crap, but I don’t feel like going into it, if you want to know the truth.”
“My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips’ red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damask’d, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground:
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare.”—Shakespeare. (via wearestillhere)
This is a complex question to me. It really depends on my mood. I spent a lot of time reading sci-fi and fantasy books growing up. I still have a bunch of them, and they’re dog-eared at my favorite passages. But I don’t read as much of them anymore…really only when I want a pure escape.
I studied literature for both my degrees so I’ve read a lot. I am most drawn to what are found in traditional “Fiction” sections at bookstores but are a little different. For instance, An Arsonist’s Guide to Writer’s Homes in New England is kind of like crack!fic in novel format, and I really loved it the first time I read it. Also, The City of Dreaming Books I came across in a random bookstore, loved it so much, and then when I wanted to read more by the author, found it almost impossible to find him because he’s German and a lot of his stuff, though translated, in not very accessible to mainstream America.
I like books that make me think. I like books with characters I can identify with and who I want to emulate. I like books that take me on a journey and make it hard to turn the light off at night because I just want to keep reading. It makes my “To read” list/pile incredibly varied and has given me a reputation amongst my friends as the go-to person for recommendations because I always have something a little different to suggest, even if it’s something that’s been around for more than a decade.
Sorry for the novel of an answer. It kind of felt like I had to pick a favorite kid or something.
I’m stuck on a pulp fiction binge. I haven’t felt the need to read anything but murder mysteries (I blame Castle) and books I read at 15 for about three weeks. Oh and my book…I’ve been reading that too cuz I’m editing it right now. But nothing new and serious.
Has this stopped me from buying new books? NO! (I lack all self control.)