Bookcases, empty and bare, Stand purposeless, as if in error. Where once the walls were lined with books Now barren shelves attract no looks The dark store, a cavernous lair, A shadowy shell of what was there When we could lose ourselves with care In stories from book-laden nooks, Then fly away. The… Continue reading A Rondel Lamenting the Slow Demise of the Indie Bookstore
When it started, it was innocent bibliophilia. My condition has worsened though, and I am well aware that I am gleefully suffering from bibliomania. I found this Japanese word, tsundoku, which pretty much describes my condition right now. It’s not that I don’t ever read these books, it’s just that I buy them faster than… Continue reading Books, Books, Books!
HE’S EVEN GOT BOOKS STACKED ON THE CHAIR. I want. I want with a burning, passionate, delirious desire. Right now, I’ve only got about 20 feet of books…so maybe I could possibly fill up half of one of his rows. Plus I haven’t even read all of mine. Neil Gaiman is so well-read it’s baffling.… Continue reading Neil Gaiman’s Personal Library.
I told myself that I would write you all a charming blog about NaNoWriMo’s Night of Writing Dangerously last Sunday, but I’ll be honest, I’m just not feeling up to it. I can’t remember the last time I felt like I had so much on my plate. I just got home Wednesday after traveling for… Continue reading Night of Writing Dangerously, and the Aftermath of THAT