I like lists. From Yelp bookmarks to my Netflix queue to a disorganized collection of Google Docs to handwritten notes around my apartment, I like maintaining lists of desired future experiences. I note bars and restaurants in the city I'd like to patronize, what trips I'd like to take, photo ideas, gift ideas, costume ideas, movies I'd like to see, and music I'd like to download legally purchase. I'd be pretty lost without all these lists. How else would I know what I want?
Recently, I stumbled across another list I've been dutifully maintaining for years: books I'd like to read. When I was working full-time, I never read any books and, thinking back on it, I can't really explain why. Somehow I just never had the energy or inclination to pick up a book, even during that lazy late-night window just before bed that's so conducive to curling up with a book and drifting off to sleep.
Now that my time is a bit more flexible, I find myself yearning for all the knowledge and stories I've been sweeping under the rug for some time now. This past weekend, in a dead-tree splurge that would make a post-apocalyptic Henry Bemis proud, I found myself in libraries and used book stores and eBay auctions, obsessively searching for every book on my list. One hour, I was sidestepping the homeless in the San Francisco Public Library; the next hour, I was scouring shelves in bookstores in Berkeley; the next hour, I was looking up ISBNs online and comparing shipping costs.
After the dust settled, I took inventory of the fuel for my impending literary bender. I managed to get my hands on about 90% of my list:
(Not pictured: How Soccer Explains the World, On The Road, and three George Carlin books.)
I don't remember how some of these made the list, but I can be fairly certain that I was influenced by a friend or magazine or book review. In any case, it's time to sit down and rediscover a joy that I've sorely missed in recent years.
I read Heart of Darkness this week and it has earned inclusion in this post, for two reasons. First, I've learned that Joseph Conrad absolutely despised paragraphs. His idea of a paragraph is two pages of unbroken, rambling text, including dialog between characters, which is super annoying to read. My theory is that the Enter key on his typewriter broke and he decided to plow ahead anyway, probably knowing this was his masterpiece and he couldn't stop for anything, even carriage returns.
However, Conrad made up for his newline deficiencies by introducing me to the second-greatest word I've ever encountered: "cocksure". To be cocksure is to be absolutely sure and certain of something, to the point of being overconfident or arrogant. I think we can all agree that a man invented this spectacle of a word. Additionally, I think we can all agree that this word needs to be the name of a brand of deodorant. I imagine the commercial would go something like this:
As I wait patiently for my career as a personal hygiene trendsetter to take off, you can find me relaxing on my couch in my sweats with a blanket and a book. And should my glasses break in a dismal and heartbreaking twist of fate like they did for poor Mr. Bemis, you'll hear me crying his famous last words:
P.S. Seriously though, that Twilight Zone episode is the saddest story ever.
P.P.S. I know you're wondering what the greatest word ever is. It's "verbify". Get it?
Recently, I stumbled across another list I've been dutifully maintaining for years: books I'd like to read. When I was working full-time, I never read any books and, thinking back on it, I can't really explain why. Somehow I just never had the energy or inclination to pick up a book, even during that lazy late-night window just before bed that's so conducive to curling up with a book and drifting off to sleep.
Now that my time is a bit more flexible, I find myself yearning for all the knowledge and stories I've been sweeping under the rug for some time now. This past weekend, in a dead-tree splurge that would make a post-apocalyptic Henry Bemis proud, I found myself in libraries and used book stores and eBay auctions, obsessively searching for every book on my list. One hour, I was sidestepping the homeless in the San Francisco Public Library; the next hour, I was scouring shelves in bookstores in Berkeley; the next hour, I was looking up ISBNs online and comparing shipping costs.
After the dust settled, I took inventory of the fuel for my impending literary bender. I managed to get my hands on about 90% of my list:
(Not pictured: How Soccer Explains the World, On The Road, and three George Carlin books.)
I don't remember how some of these made the list, but I can be fairly certain that I was influenced by a friend or magazine or book review. In any case, it's time to sit down and rediscover a joy that I've sorely missed in recent years.
I read Heart of Darkness this week and it has earned inclusion in this post, for two reasons. First, I've learned that Joseph Conrad absolutely despised paragraphs. His idea of a paragraph is two pages of unbroken, rambling text, including dialog between characters, which is super annoying to read. My theory is that the Enter key on his typewriter broke and he decided to plow ahead anyway, probably knowing this was his masterpiece and he couldn't stop for anything, even carriage returns.
However, Conrad made up for his newline deficiencies by introducing me to the second-greatest word I've ever encountered: "cocksure". To be cocksure is to be absolutely sure and certain of something, to the point of being overconfident or arrogant. I think we can all agree that a man invented this spectacle of a word. Additionally, I think we can all agree that this word needs to be the name of a brand of deodorant. I imagine the commercial would go something like this:
"Guys! You work hard. You play hard. You love hard. And in today's world, you have to be absolutely confident and 100% sure of everything you do. But sometimes being sure isn't enough. Sometimes, you need to be... Cocksure! With Cocksure deodorant, you'll get that promotion. And a triple-double at the court with your buddies. And that cute secretary that works in the office next door. So what are you waiting for fellas? Grab a handful of Cocksure and take on the world! Available at Walgreens, CVS, and other fine stores."I'm pretty sure the novelty alone would bring in a few million dollars, especially among the college crowd.
As I wait patiently for my career as a personal hygiene trendsetter to take off, you can find me relaxing on my couch in my sweats with a blanket and a book. And should my glasses break in a dismal and heartbreaking twist of fate like they did for poor Mr. Bemis, you'll hear me crying his famous last words:
"That's not fair. That's not fair at all. There was time now! There was all the time I needed! That's not fair!"And then I'll grab my spare glasses from the desk drawer and pick up where I left off.
P.S. Seriously though, that Twilight Zone episode is the saddest story ever.
P.P.S. I know you're wondering what the greatest word ever is. It's "verbify". Get it?
