May. 16th, 2005

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The strongest passage from any piece of literature I've ever read is a single sentence. It's in Catch-22, which, while not the classic people expect for a great passage, is still a classic, none the less. When I was reading it, I came across this phrase, and I nearly wept. And I don't cry in movies, or books, or anything, really, except life. But this time, my heart shattered into what felt to be a thousand pieces, and those pieces shattered, and so on. The phrase is, and I quote:

"And Snowden lay dying in back."

That's it, nothing more, nothing less. I read this over a year ago, and this phrase, this simple sentence of six words, has never left my head. It's always there, lurking in the back of my mind, and more than once I've found myself mumbling it to myself, over and over. It's beautiful and ugly and dark and so many things, which is amazing, for so few words. I think this phrase, this simple thing, is what changed me as a writer. I now write things sparsely, trying to echo the same feelings I had when I read that phrase. And but God, what a phrase it is.

And I've come to realize I have a problem. I have this obsession with books, and it's kinda bad. I buy books like other people buy clothes, or something else. In the past few years, I've spent over three thousand dollars on books. I go the store, I see a book I find interesting, and I have to have it. And I don't really have the money to do this, since I'm a student, but I still do. More than once, this last year, I went without food just so I could buy another book that I wanted. The worst thing is, I don't even read all of the books I buy. I start them, but then I buy another, and move onto that one, and I don't finish the first one. >< Bad, bad habit. Costly habit, too, since books are exactly cheap. But at least it's not something like drugs, right?

So today, I bought a book (The Idiot, Dostoevsky) and a 'Books to Check Out' journal, to keep track of what I need to read, and I told myself I wouldn't buy another book until I'd read some that I hadn't finished yet. Did that work? Nope, because less than five hours later I was paying a cashier for Wind in the Willows. But I needed that book, for my collection. And I have these lists, this lists of hundred of books, everywhere, tacked up on walls. Lists of 'Greatest American Novels,' 'Books that Shaped America,' 'Greatest British Novels,' 'Greatest Books of All Time,' ect. And they're seriously everywhere. So now I'm going to consolidate all of the lists into my new little journal book, and then I'm going to go through all of my books, and the books I haven't finished I'll put in a bookshelf, seperate from the others, and work through it. That's my plan. And heavens, but do I have books... Far too many, but I want more, need more. God, I sound like an addict...

And in more news, a thought upon my writing. I'm beginning to lose interest, or rather, I'm beginning to feel inadequate. It's the reviews again. People say they like Tryin', that they love it, and now I'm so worried about the next chapter not being up to their liking, and that freaks me out. Alas. And then I read things other people write, and I feel inadequate all over again. I am thinking about taking a hiatus from the fanfiction world altogether, so I can read through my books and stable myself out.

Finally, the moment I'm sure people were waiting for, the drabble.

Hold My Hand )

I'm so freakin' random right now. Sugar high, I believe. So I'm going to go read, and maybe organize my books again, and then watch Star Wars, and eventually sleep, and ignore the fact that I'm still sick. Woot!

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midnightdiddle

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