Mt. FUN!

Its Mt. Baldy and the bugs came out to play. This tuesday we a couple friends an I went to hike in the wilderness that is the Angeles National Forest. I was expecting fresh air, which we got. Big trees, check. And a whole lot of bugs, which I wasn't expecting. The flys were abnormally ginormous. Each one would land on you and begin to make you the host of their ever expanding family. The red marks on me are proof of the attack I barely survived. I used to think that I was a wilderness person. I cherished the fact that as a city boy, I would appreciate the expansive forest. But much to my chagrin, or distaste for the insect kingdom, I am not in fact a wilderness boy. I am through and through a dweller of suburbia. Its not a big surprise I suppose. I was raised in the city. So it comes down to having to choose a life of modern comforts, or a life of tranquil peace with great weather and beautiful sunsets, melded with horrifying insects and grotesque bug bites. I think I choose the former. A city boy. Doesn't sound so bad, does it?

I'll always have money for books

It has come to my attention recently that when I am a starving writer in some crack of a den, I will always spend my money on books instead of food. It sounds idiotic, in fact it sounds downright stupid. But I would rather read than eat. God knows my body will benefit from such practices. Honestly though, I love to read and when ever I have some extra cash or a full check to cash I will immediately head towards the nearest bookseller establishment.
For example today, I could have saved my two or three shekels for a later day, but instead the minute I saw that "Of Mice And Men" was on sale for 2 dollars I had to have it.
On the same spree I bought "Nausea" by Jean Paul Sartre and "Death of a Salesman" by Arthur Miller.
Really, I only do it to build my collection. I want to amass a library comparable to that of the one Congress posesses. Impossible, I know. Yet a boy could dream.
When I read I delve into other worlds where my problems don't seem so large and daunting. Life after books just seems so much easier. One would say then, why read about such depression and sadness and such overwhelming adversity. Why? Because, thats why. The words fill me and wrap me tight making me feel protected. I love the smell of an old book, especially when its yellowed and falling apart. Imagine what its been through. Its witnessed first hand the lives of other owners who explored its pages. Its seen the tears fall from many eyes and heard the roaring laughter from many voices. I love knowing that there is something so old and yet willing to teach me something new when ever I feel like it.
Books.

PS: A shout out must be given to the people at the Prison Library Project in Claremont, CA. That is where I purchased my novels today. Thanks, I hope my donations help the indigent inmates of Chino State Prison!