Speaking of things I collect, I may have mentioned it briefly in the masterpiece entitled How To Live The Best Fake Life You Can Imagine, or several times thereafter, that I collect books. I don’t read them, as much as I like to give the impression that I do, while underhandedly using them strictly for decorating props. I understand this is a perplexing and tricky dichotomy considering I’m a writer. But you know how “Those who can’t do, teach?” Well, I also find that “Those who can’t write, read.” You’re welcome to leave me nasty comments in regards to that theory, but wouldn’t you rather go eat a Dilly Bar or something? Go with the cherry. You’ll thank me.
But seriously, the books are starting to take over my life.
So when I’m selecting books, my focus is on the thickness and color of the cover and how well it will coordinate with the lamp, random flea market suitcase, or bookshelf that it will be sitting on or in the proximity of. I don’t pay attention to minor details like the title or the content. I had an epiphany recently that I should start trying to solve all my problems by dissecting different sections of my house and seeing what they reveal about me. [Go here to see what my freezer had to say. It was shocking, to say the least.] So, we’re moving on to my books.
It’s only fitting that we start with my desk area. It’s where I am sitting right now, talking to you. It is also where I spend almost all of my meager existence being a hermit, writing and editing with bloodshot eyes, and listening to my nineties playlist while eating very questionable leftovers. Because I can.
Let’s zoom in on the middle cubby. When I actually started reading the titles, I discovered that these books must have been stalking me during the past couple of years.
1. Places to Stay the Night. This eerily, but accurately describes my life from the time span of 2002-2006. If I could make one minor adjustment it would be “Random Places To Stay The Night While Escaping Your Heroin-Addict British Boyfriend, Overly-Possessive Italian Boyfriend, Or When You Decide To Go To Mexico On A Whim Or When You’re Wandering Around A European City And Refuse To Leave Your Wasted Roommate With Those Inappropriate German Guys.”
2. The Ideal Bride. Oh yes. I couldn’t think of a better way to describe myself. On opposite day.
3. To Love Again. And again… and again… and effing again.
4. Five Days In Paris. Please change to “Five Days In Paris Accompanied By: A Hailstorm, A Robbery, The Stomach Flu, Ungodly Frizzy Hair, World’s Meanest People, Mystery Meats Cooked In Too Much Butter, And An Unwanted Proposal.”
5. Ten Poems To Set You Free. UGH. Information that would have been useful to me yesterday!
6. Forbidden Area. Much like a fine art painting or Greek Opera, I’m leaving this one open to interpretation.