sitting around, doing nothing

well, not quite since i worked a bit on the poem posted below while listening to aphex twin at pandora, then i read this piece about tom stoppard's habit of lugging his way heavy book box on his travels versus the comfort and ease and portability of the e-book reader kindle. and it reminds me of the time when i moved to south florida for a bit when i was in my early 20s. i had 2 suitcases with me: one for my clothes and assorted sundries, and the second for my books, which included copies of the dream songs by john berryman and a selected borges reader.

one of my roommates was a tech freak, she at the time subscribed to a very early internet ipo whose name eludes me at the moment. the year was 1990. anyway, she said if there was an e-book i'd not need to lug a 100 lbs of books like i did.

i scoffed at the notion. now i think she's right and here i am reading poems, listening to music and working on poems on my laptop and blogging about it. and yet, i love my books. the weight, the smell, the dust that accumulates so quickly. i gaze at their spines as they sit on my shelves as if i were looking into the eyes of a lover. and each room i go into i have an annoying habit of stopping for a few minutes, pulling a collection of the shelf and read a page or two, a poem or two.

so no. i'm still like stoppard and will lug my books thru the end of my days. lifting their collective weight is not a beast of burden but the labor of a deep and abiding love and passion. sure i'll get an e-reader too. print whether in digital or analog forms is still language. and it is not an either/or thing regarding paper or pixels. i want them both and now.

in other yet i think releated news please read ernesto priego's finsbury park manifesto.

word to your mother