I have read more books in the past four months than I have in the past ten years. I feel bad that this ancient and very common practice of reading other peoples thoughts is so new to me. O, the time I have wasted. I guess I have always preferred hearing things first hand. O man my buddy Rob B... that guy can tell a story. He is well read, maybe ten thousand books under his belt. That's probably being modest. I stay in touch with litature because of Rob. He seems to always be up to date with books. When the "new book" come up with others in conversation I quickly quiet down and listen to Rob, later bugging him about all the details of the book. Rob is always pleased to give me the plot summary, among with all the important metaphors and similes ,
leaving me with just enough to hold a conversation. In our circle of friends we call it getting the Rob notes. I'm not sure others rely on this gift of his to the point that I do, because they actually read a little. Me...? Non at all. I remember at times rushing him, begging for what's happening in Pallunuks new book and asking questions that might even spoil the ending just so I could have better conversation with others that I wanted to seem important to. Always without hesitation, Rob obliged. Even if it made the book no more enjoyable because of my babbling, he always took the time to talk to me about the fantasy he was in. Rob is my best friend. For so many more reasons than even that.

With that said, I have enjoyed the books I have read lately. I love the buzz I get upon finishing a book. I feel as if taking the time to meet new people and investing in their interests makes me a better friend. Silly... I know. For they are only stories.

Tell me more about books...