I mentioned in my last post that I was failing at being positive, but one of the ways I cheer myself up is to read.
Simple right? Just pick up a book and read! Oh the joy!
But no friends, it’s not that simple. I have bookshelves FULL of books that I have yet to crack open. (not a metaphor, I actually crack the spines)
I have a lot of excuses as to why I haven’t started to read them, like some of them I started but they didn’t grab my attention so I didn’t bother to give it a chance (I’m a terrible human, I know.) others I just liked the idea of.. You know the ones, the one that you want people to see you reading on the train or to spark an interest from someone looking at your bookshelf. Yeah, I have a log of these ones. /
Right now, I’m about to get ready to go to work, but have an urge, or maybe more of a duty to myself to go and browse the new fiction shelves in Dymocks. Ya know just to make sure they’re all alphabetised correctly?…
& if I happen to come out with some new bestsellers…
Fuck it, life’s short.