I have been totally remiss with my plan to read about five books this month and also provide book reviews. Whilst I would like to blame the fact that I’ve just moved, I have to admit, I just find it difficult to read at home. I just moved home. I’ve always been a coffee shop reader, or I would read on my couch in my various flats. But, at home, I don’t quite know where my space is. I am also amid a million job applications–yay, millennials. Additionally, I’ve been super caught up in all of the local politics around me. My own city’s mayoral and councillor elections, as well as my, much more important, neighbouring city’s elections. Clearly, the results are in, and we’ll just have to wait it out–see what happens. Yet, this feels like lazy citizenship. I am an ardent advocate for a more meaningful take on art and culture in my city. I fear we are all, to easily, driven by commercial transactions that perpetuate marginalization of particular members of our community. If we have a greater space for art and creative expression, we will witness the emergence of unique voices. This is how a city should operate–particularly, a democratic one.
Alright, now that that is out of the way, I will discuss what I have been reading. I am slowly moving through a history text and Evelyn Waugh’s A Handful of Dust. It is quite an easy read, but I’ve just been so slow at getting through it. It is so strange for me because I am used to pumping out two theoretical texts a day, but I haven’t found a groove. Hm. I’ll get there; I’m sure. There is so much I want to read, and I feel my curiosity burgeon at the crisp pages that adorn my shelves. If I could, I would dive into those pages without fear of a sand-storm of paper cuts. I am so much a café reader, though. Hah, I am not a homebody. But my city isn’t much of an artsy/culture-niche/café scene. Commercial institutions reign supreme. Haha, the acrid taste of truth hails like cynicism of old.
As I am still in this weird transition, I will not make further promises to keep to a reading schedule. I find that I am more inclined to write these days. It is a driving force. The power of expression is vast, and to find oneself in a position to be able to express—it is a golden paradise. An offering from the gods of new. Millennials. Haha. Nectar flows into the mouths of the thirsty, and, in turn, they paint the world with meaning and fearless abandon. A contradictory state of being that reminds us of our fragility, without succumbing to decay. Abjection–but abjection is the immediate fear and disgust we transpose onto absolutes only to see them unravel–the fears, the disgust, and the absolute. Thus, abjection pricks us as a negative force, but reveals itself to be a life-force. Perhaps, this is my current relationship to reading. This epiphany may tire my fingers as they run through the pages. That’s what we’ll go with.
All the best, my loves. Humbly yours.