To the fool who set the fire alarm off at 2:30 in the morning: you’re right, I do think the whole building enjoyed standing outside watching firemen clear the building for ten minutes. Shoot me in the face.
I have barely left the dripping red and brown industrial buildings of my
C Train-to Manhattan
quaint Brooklyn campus neighborhood and I have already been spewing poetic prose nonsense enough for a chapter of a novel. One never notices how dreadfully jolty a train is until they try to…
My new blog. Eventually there will be pictures with the posts, but I don’t have a bag big enough to fit my camera, so I don’t want to take it out in public much yet. But hopefully I can keep up with this. There will probably end up being lots of stuff I’ve written for class on there (writing major, hurr hurr, lots of writing for me).
So last year I decided, for a new year’s resolution, to read fifty books. And shockingly enough, I accomplished this. Though that last book was a race against the clock on the eve of the new year. I even have a cute little notebook dedicated to this. I dutifully write down the title of the book, what number it is that year, the author, and the date I finished it. I wish book logging websites worked more like that. Sometimes I’ll start a book and read a good portion of it, and then pick it up again almost a year later. Or I just won’t be into a book when I start it and eventually I’ll persevere through the dull introduction and suddenly find myself three quarters of the way in and really attached to the characters. But the point is: it just makes more sense to me to just keep track of when I finish things. Some books are really long/really dense and take absolutely forever to read. Some books are really long and really dense and they take doubly long to read. Or they are only good during the middle of the day. Or they are kind of depressing and you need to be in the right mood and have time to recover. Or whatever the reason, but you just go through them slowly. Reading log websites make me feel like an inadequate reader. I’ve finished thirty books so far this year. Well, I’ve got rather a lot of reading to do in the next three and a half months. But I’ll get there. I’ve read eighty books since last january, and I know the title and author for each and every one. It’s an accomplishment. And I’m only seventeen, what can I do with the rest of my life but continue reading?