"Who knows how to make love stay?
Answer me that and I will tell you whether or not to kill yourself.
Answer me that and I will ease your mind about the beginning and end of time.
Answer me that and I will reveal to you the purpose of the moon."--Still Life with Woodpecker
I like Mr. Robbins' writing. He's a bit of a smart ass and I mean that in the best way. He's clever. Any writing that actually makes me laugh out loud as I read silently to myself gets major kudos in my book. I remember reading Larry Shue's play The Foreigner and relishing in disbelief over the fact that a play was making me laugh so hard I bruised my tooshie falling off the couch.
"Commas of excitement wobbled in her tummy and question marks squirmed in there as well. Every once in awhile she felt as though she were sitting on an exclamation point."
Why the hell hadn't I thought of that? Classic.
I also find it inspiring when a book captivates me so much that I have to complete it in a matter of days. I'll always remember sitting in geometry class desperately trying to finish the remaining pages of my tattered copy of 1984 and vainly trying to get the kid talking at me in the desk opposite mine to shut their pie hole. They simply couldn't understand why I needed to read so badly.
But there are many that don't understand much at all.
"Essential insanities are those impulses one instinctively senses are virtuous and correct, even though peers may regard them as coo coo. Essential insanities get one in trouble with others. It is always preferable to be in trouble with others. In fact it may be essential."
I couldn't help but laugh over the fact that the princess was a vegetarian, a sexpot who'd recently sworn off men. I loved that she named her pet frog Prince Charming "after that son of a bitch who never comes through."
Once again, why the hell hadn't I thought of that.
I didn't desire a pet frog, though.
I love reading. I especially love reading well written books. And further still, I love reading books that are someone else's favorites. It always feels like a stolen glance into the window of their heart. I remember one prideful mongrel of a guy telling me his favorite book was The Alchemist. After I finished the book I couldn't believe what a romantic that kid secretly was. It was like reading that book helped me understand him better, which may have been why he wanted me to read it in the first place.
Sometimes the nuances of motives aren't as elusive as we like to believe they are.
The Psuedo had given me The Count of Monte Cristo, which would remain indefinitely one of my favorites for numerous reasons, not the least of which is it's an amazing novel.
Narcissus had given me Notes from the Underground and Dostoevsky, too, has remained one of my favorite, complex authors.
My first love opened my eyes to poetry, two loves gave me books I sadly had no taste for and of course there were those who never shared books at all.
They simply didn't care for reading.
Truth be told, Prince Charming didn't much care for reading either. Part of the significance of the book he shared was that it was the first one he had ever completed cover to cover.
And what an interesting book to choose.
What makes love stay?
Books have a way of communicating things we sometimes can't.
And that was fantastic.
I guess that's partly why I love writing so much.
Sometimes there's so much to say it seems even words fail.
But they certainly shed light on quite a lot.
And make guts quiver in those we least expect.
So I closed the book with a smile reveling over how enjoyable it was to finish one chapter so as to begin another. I knew I would take with me all that had transpired and all that hadn't. And I would leave behind memories that would linger, like my perfume after I'd already left the room.
Burberry London, Stranger.
But it would never smell on her the way it always had on me.
Which is why it was so irrisistible to you in the first place.
"May we be eaten by starving baby ostriches if we can't concoct a secret way to meet."
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