I’m a nerd. I don’t say that because I think it’s cool, it’s just a statement, an item on a list of items that make up me. I love comics, I can spend an entire day playing Magic: The Gathering and I’ve seen the Original Trilogy more times than I can remember. I once won a game of Star Wars Trivial Pursuit before anyone else had a chance to take a turn, I’ve even thought about putting that on my resume.
I am currently sitting on this lazy Sunday, typing this entry as more snow falls outside my window. So much snow, in fact, that we might end the weekend with an additional 20 fucking inches of it. Gross.
I spent the last three years of my life living in Las Vegas – a land of 120 degree days, sunshine, and the permanent smell of dry rot. Now my life feels more like something out of a Laura Ingalls Wilder story. I currently live in quite a small town in Michigan, a huge change from a few miles off of the infamous Las Vegas strip. A big change in scenery can be quite inspiring, even when you’re trapped in your home and I do my best to take it in.
I’m stocked on food, and more importantly – entertainment.
I have a slew of books begging to be moved to the ‘read’ section of my Goodreads page, and about 10 ongoing and varying artistic pursuits. I’m currently working my way through To Have and Have Not, and The Bone People by Keri Hulme, I picked this up solely because of it’s cover. I bought it this past Thursday when I went to Schuler’s Bookstore after eating half my weight in shrimp and pad thai sauce at Mongolian BBQ (let’s be honest, no one goes there to eat a sensibly portioned meal). The whole time I was eating I kept looking across the street and fantasizing about walking those aisles, touching the spines of dozens and dozens of Bantam and Random House books and finding something new and wonderful to take home.
I try to go into bookstores with an open mind. I keep my “to read” list for purchasing books on my Kindle. This leaves the thrill of the hunt for the pridelands of Barnes and Noble, Schuler’s, and your friendly neighborhood bookstore. A book in its physical form should find you, I think. And find me it did.
I was just about to march over to the checkout and buy The Pale King, by David Foster Wallace, when the cover of The Bone People caught my eye. Tucked between haphazardly abandoned copies of The Brothers Karamazov and some Kerouac novel, it simply called to me. It said “Hey, look how cool my cover is. Ignore that ‘don’t judge a book by it’s cover’ stuff, judge me. Pick me up.” I loosely skimmed the pages, and when I got to page 9 I was hooked.
I’ll let you know how the rest goes, in the mean time – I have some shoveling to do.