Spitball Army

I lend him the new book before I even read it. He returns it quickly: underlined, highlighted, dog-eared. “Consider it a gift,” I tell him.

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Vintage postcards from antique malls and yard sales get scanned as blog entries, annotated, then used as bookmarks in his library.

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Shakespeare > Dickens > Twain > Jane Austen > Dr. Seuss > JK Rowling > Stephenie Meyer > mommy tweets

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On the ‘favorite book’ shelf: a pre-publication copy, two First Editions, one autographed volume, five paperbacks to give as gifts.

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Time to leave for home, she dashes resistingly into the stacks. An empty shelf is a perfect hideout, next to Hoyle and Lasker.

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Organizing music books: Beatles > Dylan > artists, alphabetically > genres > regions > music biz > anthologies > jazz > classical.

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Ugh. Is Henry James unfilmable?

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Before devoting himself to psychology, Freud conducted zoological research and is credited with discovering testicles in eels.

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Though his pusillanimous nature realistically prevented it, he still dreamed of, one day, becoming King of the Forest.

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If only I hadn’t been lost in Martin Eden. I glanced up as the tram door closed behind her silhouette; then the mists took her.

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