I pulled all of my books out of my lawyer’s bookcase to pull it out from the wall. The back panel on the bottom needed repair, and I had a slim framed picture I wanted to put behind the bookcase.
In replacing the books, I set out a Programming in C++ book for the thrift pickup next week, but kept a book on data modeling for SQL server and one on programming logic and design.
Picking up my Norton Anthology of American Literature (Volume 2), I leaf through, seeing what notes college-me left in the margins and what authors inside I’d like to read.
I come across “To Aunt Rose” by Allen Ginsberg and as I read it on the page, realize that I’ve heard a recording of him reading it. While the paper plays the groove, my eyes play the needle and the sound of his quirky voice plays in my head.
To write poetry again. To read the classics, classic authors, classic works. To get lost in these words instead of the auto-refresh of facebook and twitter and so many other things that steal attention and time from what brings me so much more pleasure.
I have a lot of books to replace. And bank accounts to balance. Time to keep moving.