It is late Thursday night, or early Friday morning, depending on your viewpoint. Is the glass half empty, or half full? Are we leaning into the weekend, or merely winding down from Thursday? Whatever it is, I'm sitting here trying to throw a few hundred words together in some semblance of a blog post. Aerosmith (of all groups!) is blasting out of my headphones; their vibratory musical sounds winding their way through my ear canal, and presenting themselves to my mind to be decoded. Late 1970s, early 1980s hard rock band hailing from Boston and its environs. Lead singer originally noted for his resemblance to Mick Jagger (big pouty lips, bulging crotch at the forefront), but he soon outgrew that label. Known for hits such as "Dream On," "Walk This Way," and "Dude (Looks Like a Lady)" among others.
One more day of work. One more day of finding authors on shelves for customers. "Where's your nonfiction section?" "Do you have any used copies of The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo?" "Is The Help in paperback yet?" Once in a while I can direct folks towards personal favorites such as Edward Abbey, Dan Chaon, and Jim Krusoe. I'm quite anxious to start John Brandon's sophomore effort, Citrus County. I need enough time to carve at least 50 pages out of it before closing the cover. I don't want just a little taste. I want to immerse myself in the text for an afternoon. I should have plenty of opportunity for that this weekend. Who knows? I might even get it finished by Monday.
And then it's on to the next book, filling my mind with words and ideas. Filling it with the trials and tribulations of fictional characters, but also examining my own ideals and situations through the eyes of the author. Movies are fun, and music soothes my soul, but literature and taken me across centuries and taught me who I could be. [Sounds corny, but we call it Maisy.] Now I while away my hours alphabetizing, pricing used books, receiving new books, and assisting other readers track down just the right title for them.
I never understand anyone who complains of boredom. Their ennui is self-induced and false, because there are books to read, and music to enjoy. One of my favorite pastimes has always been taking a long, leisurely walk, and letting my mind wander, and my allow my woes to drop away. Others find fulfillment in sport, or gardening. But boredom? Please spare me the sound of a siren like whine winding its way into my canals, thanks to your lack of imagination.
Boredom is a state of mind and a choice, because one can always choose to lift one's duff from the soft and inviting sofa and take action. Even if that action is only walking a dozen or so steps to the kitchen to boil water for tea. There may even be a few crumpets left to accompany that tea. And this imagined entity can take the tea and crumpets out onto the veranda, and enjoy the view of the vineyards. Poof! Boredom gone. At the other end of the spectrum: You could take a short trip to the 7-Eleven and pick up a 12-pack of something cheap and encased in aluminum. (Aluminum - Its atomic number is 13) Then you could watch one of the many sports programs sponsored by that very beer you're sipping (slurping? Gulping?) Poof! Boredom gone.
Tonight — to battle that phantom known as "boredom" — I have chosen to write a rambling, and ponderous blog post. Late night/early morning be damned. Full speed ahead. I also have the advantage of knowing that mon amour will be taking my loquacious and energetic son to work with her in the morning. He will have fun there, and I will get a few more hours of precious sleep before heading to work.