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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