31 March 2008

Readers of the lost life

I love to read. As a matter of fact, I bring a book with me everywhere. When I go to work, I read between stop lights. Even if I'm traveling on the freeway, I bring a book, if only because here in LA, a traffic jam is never far away.

On weekends, when I'm not filming on Odyssey or Helena Chronicles, I can be found in my Starbucks reading, sipping my way overpriced hot mocha (because I like them hot) and extremely overpriced pastry. Yes, strangely, I find I'm able to get more reading done there, than at home. Go figure. Perhaps, because, I'm easily distracted by the computer or the TV.

The point is, I think, that I once thought I could find someone who liked to read also, that we could have conversations -though I'm not really into those literary works - and spend Siundays on the couch reading.

But these days, I think as author Ariel Levy said, that the goal of a any relationship is “to find somebody where your perversions match and who you can stand.”

So, I guess, I have to let my rope out, and maybe take a chance on someone who hates reading. I'm so wrapped up in finding, what one friend called my "intellectual equal," that I've missed the forest for the trees.

Or, more realistically, I'm destined to be alone.

Sometimes I feel like Burgess Merideth in that Twilight Zone episode Time Enough to Read. That because I read so much, not partaking in the glory of life, that I missed the boat. The plane. The space ship.

What an odd post, David

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