…wandering around a bookstore (a loop around a core, as though walking inside of a doughnot) pulling random books from shelves and wandering… found a book by a famed philosopher (greek, roman, chinese?) and read it all. CHOMP. left the leavings on the floor… digested argument… (though can’t remember it now. but recollect that it had something to do with some inherent nature of THINGS) mulled over book just read… found another title. this a satiric rebuttal of the original (in penguin-form) full of heartless glee which also CHOMP consuming… contained both in head simulcast… staggered? or enjoying the fullness of brain? this bookstore was abandoned: they didn’t mind the book-consumption… the only people were found in the urination room. where the dream…
I haven’t been, in a while, in a time, to the store with books, and you’ve just made me regretting it. I always go to the usedupbooks store, where they put the junk in big stacks and on shelves and allthehellovertheplace and there are so many randomly things to just sort of grab and eat, and never enough time, (and i just felt like i just went in a circle because i talked about the not enough time thing oh i’m travestized) and i buy a bunch of books and stack them somewhere in my house and then there are too many and never quite read them all before i want to go back there and buy more and it just multiplicates.
i have not digested a philosopher in a many time.
well, i haven’t been to the wordhoard in a while me ownself. but apparently, my brain can’t stay away. lugging tomes around the home. la. good for startling kittens when the stacks fall over.