I’ve been a poor reader and I’ve been a poor reader for years. It’s embarrassing and as a person who makes his living by the written word in one way or another to be this bad and behind.
There are scripts that I should have read months ago, re-writes I should be doing and even my lag on this blog – all of it evidence of my lack of discipline. But the secret shame I’ve carried with me, the shame that has lasted since 1996, are well displayed in our reading room on a shelf – a series of classic books that I bought so I look “sophisticated and well read” but I’ve never actually read. It’s a flagrant display of douche-baggery.
Last night I made the choice to actually read these books, and to catch up on my lapsed reading. The scripts, of which there are four, shouldn’t be too bad (although one of them is a play & I don’t remember why I was supossed to read it) but the book that I’m starting with I’m actually pretty excited about: “On the Road” by Jack Kerouac!
I’ve always been attracted to this book, but I’ve never really known why. I don’t know much about the Beat Generation, I managed to completely ignore a report I was supposed to do on him in high school (sorry Mrs. Sweet!) and the most I ever learned about Kerouac was provided by an episode of “Quantum Leap”. Even with that deficit of knowledge this book has always “spoken” to me and I hadn’t read a page – until last night! I was shocked at how much I’m connecting with the material! If the rest of my library has this kind of effect then I should REALLY kick myself for waiting so long…
…although it is possible that I would not have gotten as much out of the reading back in my early twenties.
I was a bit of a shit in my twenties.
Back to the books!
See you tomorrow!