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Jul. 3rd, 2012
Ms. Fox engages me in a discussion on one of my ‘ain’t reading great?’ posts. She seems to be irritated with me today. Perhaps it is because I’ve just revealed more about my poverty and weakness. She is more quarrelsome, and she argues in this post that not everyone has time to read:
Yes, people are still in need of serious reading. But modern people who live in big cities, they has not time to read.)) Life is too hectic. The road from home to work takes time, traffic jams, etc. etc. My house I have a pile of books in my house and I should read it. This is necessary for the job. I do not have time enough)))
To which Daimon comes alive:
”Heh, yeah, modern people who live in big cities have better things to do than to spend all day reading like little old ladies. I think this is pretty close to being one of those ‘you should get a job’ put-downs.”
It doesn’t look like it’s going well between me and her, does it? In truth, I am surprised that she has stuck on this long, commenting fairly regularly. Though, sadly, she hasn’t given me one titty pic. To get that, I suppose I would need to post a picture of a more impressive me, or else show a meaty bank account and a happy willingness to shower gifts upon my friends.
I have effectively given up on making new friends. It always has to come down to this. And now that I am fast approaching fifty, even wealth might not help me, unless we are talking outrageous wealth, like millionaire wealth. Though, it is worth remembering that Miss Fox pursued me and even friended me first.
“Well, I’m sure she regrets it now.”
Thanks!
Gabe comes in, "Mooonk -"
Oh, oh.
She says, "You know, being fifty is only a problem if you are focusing on twenty-somethings or teenagers."
Daimon says,"I think it is safe to assume that our primate-protagonist is not interested in grandmoms with their flattened, sunken tits and paper-bag pussies."
She says, "Then he creates his own hell, doesn't he? with his swollen belly and shrimp dick and that hatchet face."
Alright already! I know. But I am condemned to this hell, and I don't think there is any escape - except maybe death, with a little luck.
She says, "I hope you're not expecting sympathy."
I'm not. Just a little understanding would be great. And some levity. A sense of humor about it.
Yes, people are still in need of serious reading. But modern people who live in big cities, they has not time to read.)) Life is too hectic. The road from home to work takes time, traffic jams, etc. etc. My house I have a pile of books in my house and I should read it. This is necessary for the job. I do not have time enough)))
To which Daimon comes alive:
”Heh, yeah, modern people who live in big cities have better things to do than to spend all day reading like little old ladies. I think this is pretty close to being one of those ‘you should get a job’ put-downs.”
It doesn’t look like it’s going well between me and her, does it? In truth, I am surprised that she has stuck on this long, commenting fairly regularly. Though, sadly, she hasn’t given me one titty pic. To get that, I suppose I would need to post a picture of a more impressive me, or else show a meaty bank account and a happy willingness to shower gifts upon my friends.
I have effectively given up on making new friends. It always has to come down to this. And now that I am fast approaching fifty, even wealth might not help me, unless we are talking outrageous wealth, like millionaire wealth. Though, it is worth remembering that Miss Fox pursued me and even friended me first.
“Well, I’m sure she regrets it now.”
Thanks!
Gabe comes in, "Mooonk -"
Oh, oh.
She says, "You know, being fifty is only a problem if you are focusing on twenty-somethings or teenagers."
Daimon says,"I think it is safe to assume that our primate-protagonist is not interested in grandmoms with their flattened, sunken tits and paper-bag pussies."
She says, "Then he creates his own hell, doesn't he? with his swollen belly and shrimp dick and that hatchet face."
Alright already! I know. But I am condemned to this hell, and I don't think there is any escape - except maybe death, with a little luck.
She says, "I hope you're not expecting sympathy."
I'm not. Just a little understanding would be great. And some levity. A sense of humor about it.
my ‘wanna read’ stack
Jul. 3rd, 2012 05:30 pmI’m about ready to buy another book, being down to my last chapter in Caro’s biography. I have noted that all the books in my ‘wanna read’ stack seem to have lost their lustre and charm. The real problem is a familiar one: I want something absolutely perfect, but such a book doesn’t exist. I am afraid to death of picking a book and then regretting that I surely could have picked a better one, and feeling like I just keep wasting all my time and all my life. And I also end up failing to enjoy the book I have.
But I think I have found the answer. The answer is also familiar: to take the choice out of my nervous, kvetching hands, and to go with random selection. If not a random-number generator at a speciality website, then my trusty old deck of fate, the nudie playing cards.
Indeed, I already find that my ‘wanna read’ stack is regaining all its old magic. Once I accept what destiny has handed me, I am pretty good at making the most out of it, thanks to a lifetime of practice.
I’m also reminded of the very old routine of going to the fiction section of a library and picking a novel at random. That usually worked well for me, as I enjoyed reading good stories that I never would have picked on my own. The books on my wish list at least have an edge: they have something that moved me to think that I would enjoy them or find them fascinating.
But I think I have found the answer. The answer is also familiar: to take the choice out of my nervous, kvetching hands, and to go with random selection. If not a random-number generator at a speciality website, then my trusty old deck of fate, the nudie playing cards.
Indeed, I already find that my ‘wanna read’ stack is regaining all its old magic. Once I accept what destiny has handed me, I am pretty good at making the most out of it, thanks to a lifetime of practice.
I’m also reminded of the very old routine of going to the fiction section of a library and picking a novel at random. That usually worked well for me, as I enjoyed reading good stories that I never would have picked on my own. The books on my wish list at least have an edge: they have something that moved me to think that I would enjoy them or find them fascinating.