Books are kind of amazing.

Correction: books are amazing, one kind of amazing, a kind that is slowly, surely, healing my soul.

Ten weeks ago shit happened. Ten weeks ago, as the most lovely Salman Rushdie puts it, the excrement hit the ventilation system. And in the time since, it has been on books that I have relied, books which make getting up out of bed in the morning a more promising prospect. I’ve had some time on my hands, therefore the number of books read is high and grows higher. It will grow higher soon with the fifteen books I put on hold at the library today.

Last night I finally made a list. They had been sitting in a stack beneath my windowsill, next to my bed. I added one to the mental stack at lunchtime. This afternoon I finally dismembered it, pulled out the library books to return them. And tonight I set that hand-written list to pixellated form.


Midnight’s Children by Salman Rushdie

Your Illustrated Guide to Becoming One with the Universe

Tiny Beautiful Things by Cheryl Strayed

The Wizard of Oz by L Frank Baum

The Opposite of Loneliness by Marina Keegan

Nothing Special by Charlotte Joko Beck

The Spirit Catches You and You Fall Down by Anne Fadiman

Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy

Life of Pi by Yann Martel

Quiet by Susan Cain

When Women Were Birds by Terry Tempest Williams

The Prophet by Kahlil Gibran

The Sheltering Sky by Paul Bowles

Internal Medicine by Terrence Holt

Me Talk Pretty One Day by David Sedaris

Ballistics by Billy Collins

The Elegance of the Hedgehog by Muriel Barbery

Stargirl by Jerry Spinelli

Nine Horses by Billy Collins

One thought on “Ten weeks.

  1. Professor X

    Thank you for the socks, but thank you more for the shared learning experience while we were both on the hill.

    I stand by all my feedback to you.

    (I couldn’t find your non-school e-mail address.)


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