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A DAY IN BED I awoke at my usual time today. Usual for the last couple weeks anyway. About one, one thirty-ish. My streak of lack of motivation continues! Anyway. There I was, partly conscience, partly unconscience.... I pulled my tired head above the pillows to see one of my christmas presents awkwardly gazing at me. It was a book. And if you didn't know (and i don't know how you could) I'm horrible when it comes to reading books. There are exceptions, however. Daniel Quinn books. A book called "Into the Wild" and I recently read, "How to make a Feature Film for $10,000....and not go to jail." Other than these exceptions, I just cannot find the time or the patience to sit down and read a book. I don't know why. It's just always been like that. For my Junior High and High School book reports, every year I did it on the same book. "One Eyed Cat" by Paula Fox. I think i used the same report for five or six grades. Anyway, my point. I'm horrible at reading....consentrating...or whatever you want to call it. So in the last four or five years I have somehow stumbled on to books that I ACTUALLY READ! Books that actually have meaning to me and that somehow "catch" me from the very first page. It's weird, but it happens the same way every time. I start reading the book. Then say, two or three pages into it I either put it down and never look at it again, or I'm absolutely hooked....My exceptions listed above are, "Ishmael" by Daniel Quinn. I read the first page and absolutely couldn't stop. I took the whole rest of the day to just sit down and read. I couldn't pause. I couldn't set it down and start again twenty minutes later. I was glued to it. Then, "The Story of B" by the Daniel Quinn. Same deal...although I think I was even more intense. Maybe because I thought it was a better book than Ishmael. I don't really know. It still remains to be one of, if not my favorite book ever. What else? Oh, "Into the Wild" by Jon Krakauer. I started reading this one afternoon, and didn't stop until it was dark outside and I was completely finished. I got it for my mom for Christmas. "How to Make a Feature Film....." by Bret Stern. I bought this book off a shelf, just by looking at the cover. I have no reason why, other than my love of filmmaking. Same deal, couldn't put it down. My only reasoning for my selective obsession/compulsion is that these books represent something amazing to me. First, creativity. Second, A striking likeness of my own ideals. Very rarely can I find something that hooks me. Something that I can relate to so closely that it challenges me to be half the character and/or subject matter I read about. Something that challenges me to never compromise my thoughts and my ideals. I guess in a way, something that makes me more than a stereotypical regular person. Something that makes me a revolutionist. It's just amazing to me that I randomly find books that, with the exception of "How to make a Feature Film...", have the same overall theme. That theme being, "The world that we live in is on a collision course. A demise that we ourselves have created. And it is almost, if not too late to undo it." If you are familiar with the Quinn books, you know that this generalizes the books ideals. "Into the Wild," i believe has that same sort of feeling, although it doesn't speak of the theme specifically, it more so deals with one man's travels away from a society that is destroying him as well as itself. That leads me to that book sitting on my night stand. That christmas present. That fifty fifty chance. I actually asked for the book. Without knowing anything about it. Only that the writer had written a book that was turned into an enormously popluar movie. FIGHT CLUB. That's right. That book is "Lullaby," by Chuck Palahniuk. My newest obsession. I slid out of bed and grabbed the book. Thumbing through the pages I was hoping for something that would tell me to forget it and get out of bed and do something constructive. But it didn't happen that way. My eyes made their way to Chapter One. Next thing I realize is that I have unknowingly gotten up to turn on the room light. All the natural light from the window above my bed had slowly faded. It was dark and I needed light. Page after page I read. Non Stop. Until I ran out of pages. It was eight thirty-ish when I finished chapter forty four. I had spent all day in bed. Reading. -remy ::email me your thoughts:: Posted @ 3:33 AM |