Wasting time reading the kind of articles and books 
normally shunned: Inspector Maigret & his mama’s 
boy murderer, and the scorned columnist Juliette’s 
glamour life - destroyed by her writing sensational 
things about people and ideas not dear to her: 
Why did Simenon write a tedious account about a 
lack-lustre protagonist, my heart sad upon reading 
such useless stuff; surely there’re better things to 
do than waddle through joyless reading material, 
surely I can find writing that leave readers feeling 
Strong, bright and powerful - not empty, sad & lost 
as if all meaning leaked out of reality, I work hard 
to hold onto the joyful meaning, the glow that love 
bestows on everything and then I go and spoil this 
hard-worn feeling of peace by reading things that 
Have nothing to do with me, taking my good feeling 
away, leaving nothing in its  place: tomorrow I will 
only look for what I want to see and leave the rest 
of life’s calamities to those who can deal with it - 
successfully…
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