Do you ever get Book-moody? Lately, I have been getting book-moody. I pick up a book and I just can’t seem to finish it… I mean why does this happen? I love reading, I love seeing the words on the page and the thoughts forming in my mind as the plot enfolds. But something gets in the way and I hit a brick wall. All of a sudden there is this immovable thing that I can’t seem to get over or find a way around.
It’s not the book either, it’s me. I get book-moody and the mood goes from a mild blue, I am a bit pissed off with the book to a crimson, this book should be used as a paperweight in a bookshop mood. Don’t get me wrong – I like the book; more often than not I love the book or I wouldn’t be wasting my time with it, however I give in to some nonsensical excuse that drags me away from the reading of it. Excuses are wide and varied and have included degenerate friends who like the odd tipple and said book gets dragged to the pub where it languishes among empty beer glasses and chock full ashtrays; to hot days that summon you to sunbathe and while away the heat of the afternoon where again said book gets dragged and used as a head rest.
On that note, have you ever noticed those people on the beach who sunbathe and read holding their books at arm’s length, shading their faces from the sun with the book and reading it at the same time? How do they do that? I saw one such lady once and timed how long she kept this up for and was amazed to find that it was half an hour before she switched to the other arm! Doesn’t your arm go to sleep? Anyway, I digress.
What’s more, degenerate friends are not to blame nor can I blame the heat, or the quality of the beer! The blame lies squarely with me and my book-mood. It overcomes me, suffuses me with its debauched smile and bittersweet aftertaste. It leads me astray, distracts me with the simplest of things. What ensues is self-loathing: why, oh why, didn’t I read my book today? I could easily have read more and anyway I was enjoying reading it before you came along (you being the mood).
I often wonder if this happens to others… Do you ever get like this?
And the only way I seem to overcome my book mood is to slowly take the wall apart brick by brick. By that I mean, I have to will myself to sit alone, said book in hand turned to ten pages before the point I had reached earlier, and reread it and exorcise the book mood out. It’s a penance for my perjury – a bloody pain in the rear is what it really is, no matter how hard I try to disguise it with fancy words.
It happens a couple of times a year and there is no getting away from it. So now I am off to light a few candles, get the rosaries out and do my Hail Mary’s and read!