I visited the library today. And I have been visiting the library about twice a week for the past few weeks--hence no blogs as I have been reading as much as I can. I have toyed with writing reviews, but I don't know how much interest people would have in reading them here, so I haven't. Also, for some reason I just can't make myself write a review, which brings me to the idea of my perfect job (other than teaching, of course): reading books. Yes. That would be my job: reading. But I don't think I can get paid for it because after I have read a book, I have no motivation to write a review or talk in depth about the book. I can do a few things after completing a novel: 1.) Smile and nod. 2.) Frown and shake my head. 3.) Cringe in repugnance (see Bret Easton Ellis' Imperial Bedrooms last two pages) 4.) Send a text to a friend recommending the book because I think he/she will like it.
So today, I picked up nine books--hopefully none are cringeworthy with surprise, grotesque endings. On a day like today, when the weather is rainy and snowy, it's amazing how many people pack into the main library in Boise. The tables were mostly all occupied by homeless people trying to get out of the cold. I spent less time than I would have liked there today because the library stunk like wet, dirty, science-fiction people, and because none of the homeless people were reading--not even the newspaper--which made me uncomfortable. They were just sitting there looking depressed. And as I passed by the shelves, every once in a while, a homeless man would glance over and give me a look of judgment--at least that's what it felt like--and it made me start sweating a lot, so I got out of there as quickly as I could.
