Monday, January 10, 2005

I bought a book today...

Two actually.

I'm so excited I could pee.

They're sitting in my knapsack still, hidden and non threatening. They'll be taken out, the second hand covers adoringly fondled, then I'll put the somehwere else where I'll beat myself up for not reading them. I used to have a libraries worth of books but I lent them here and there and people are shits and I never saw any of them again.

But weee! I am now, once again, a book owner. A two book owner even.

Thing is, I haven't read a book in eight years.

*hanging head in shame*

I was once an avid reader. My nanna used to say I'd read a bus ticket if I didn't have a book to read-and I would too. I read the back of bus tickets and knew all the dandy little sayings and quotes that were printed on the back of our bus tickets, way back in the day. That was back in the day when it cost five cents to get from school into town, and five cents to get from town to home. Not bad for a trip that took two hours. No, I don't mean tra la, what a wonderful trip! *scattering rose petals and skipping merrily*, I meant economically, ten cents to travel for two hours? Not bad. As far as trips of the tra la! variety went, it sucked. In those days, only one bus left an hour to go to the Medical Centre, where I alighted (alit?) to walk the six minutes it took to get home. One. An hour. Cripes. Now of course, it's a major terminus, and I am less averse to a twenty or so minute walk, which is how long it would've taken me from the train station if I'd chosen to NOT wait another fucking hour for the bus and taken the train instead. Ah, the folly of youth. These days I make myself walk twenty or so minutes because It's Good For me to do so. re that taking the train instead the bus. I still would have got home hours after I'd left school, but at least I would have been in transit the whole time. I liked the train too. In those days, we could kill ourselves if we wanted to, with no governemt bureaurocracy making it not possible to do so. The trains back then were called 'red hens' cuz they were red and...nope, no idea about the poultry reference...anyway, they had sliding doors that we'd leave open as we sped along the tracks, the wind in our hair and blowing the cigarette smoke out of our eyes, because of course, we were allowed to smoke in public in those days and any pussy who complained of second hand smoke damaging his pussy lungs, pah!

eek, I'm late!

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