Sweet Obsession

Always an avid reader of anything I can get in my paws, I happily admit to reading dictionaries; textbooks (medical, legal, physics, sociology, religious studies, history, you name it); sci-fi; bohemian rhapsodies; Victorian American and British literature; the directions, ingredients, and warnings on shampoo bottles; body language; song lyrics (currently Peter Gabriel); manga; subtitles to foreign movies; immortal philosophers (I drank what?); license plates; the subtle spaces between your words... and rarely satisfied with just one, I balance a book between my toes, a pamphlet in my left hand, and a keyboard and mouse in my right.

But ah, sweet obsession, Henry Miller. All else falls by the wayside. I don't ask for much in life, only what I cannot have. Why should this be any different? Look how seductively it taunts me, pivoting slowly, toying with me.

Meanwhile, I content myself by reading the local library's copy of H. Miller's "Tropic of Capricorn" (I'm in love with the first page) a second time and reading Edmund Burke's "A Philosophical Inquiry into the Origin of Our Ideas of The Sublime and Beautiful" online.