If I could name a theme for what I’ve been up to this week, I’d say it was “detox.” I feel like I went on Jenny Craig, but for other aspects of my life. No, don’t worry, I won’t be singing that awful “IF YOU WANT IT YOU GOT IT” bullshit jingle. Argh, I hate that song.
Every university student or anyone who has gone through their early twenties will have had to had slept in/passed out on/thrown up over/stupidly purchased a futon of some kind. It’s as much of a staple to independent youth as it is living off Kraft dinner for a prolonged period of time. They come cheap, they fold up into seating, and they’re great for reading comics on your belly on a nice summer afternoon.
I had bought my own gem on my first year of living on my own, when I moved to a little bachelor suite in South Granville. It was a great companion, and we’d become good friends over the last little while. I even made it a little custom sheet to minimize the wear and tear.
And then it just kind of sat there; a floppy, awkward, hunchy reminder of years that I personally don’t find so exciting.
Today it was picked up, and I suddenly see my room in an entirely different and very spacious light. I’ve essentially gained about a plot of floor space measuring about 4×6 feet. I may or may not have made some carpet angels when I realized this.
Farewell, Cable Television!
There is a type of person that I dislike—not hate, as I reserve that for many others—okay, maybe not dislike, but I find kind of abrasive and annoying; and that is the guy who always makes it a point to casually mention that they haven’t had a TV for x number of years. And then later follow this up by saying that they just watch shows and movies on their computers.
In any case, that is exactly the same as this:
Don’t say you “don’t have TV” like it’s some kind of weird badge of entitlement, man. You know who else don’t have TV? The Amish. And monks. And probably some clairvoyants. Have you hung out with any of those guys? They seem pretty annoying.
You are not better than me because I greatly love Reba and Gilmore Girls. Those shows are absolute diamonds!
Anyway, my point is I got rid of cable. I still have the television, but no more afternoons of Judge Judy, Price is Right, or Judge Joe Mathis. What it’s getting me is an extra $50/month to spend on terrible things like Belgian waffles and hand creams.
I’ve given up on building my literary aspirations on thrift store finds and other terrible shit printed and bound. So many carried my dreams of becoming somewhat of a literati, yet each one dragged the disappointment of knowing that the books I loved the most weren’t the ones about mid-century art or short stories by Margaret Atwood, but the ones about Bigfoot and drunk animals at the bar.
It was a terrible realization, guys.
Until I got an eREADER.
Holy shit. “Amazeballs” is not even a fit enough word to describe how I feel about this thing. I debated with myself, whether or not to go with an eReader or a more multi-functional tablet, and I am so, so glad I went for the eReader.
The fact that it is built solely for reading is what I find so great. The interface is clunky, and reminiscent of those days when I had tutorials on MS-DOS (okay, maybe not), but the beauty of it is that reading is all you can do on this thing.
I’ve made a past admission that I am not a great reader. And I don’t know if it’s the lingering feelings of excitement, but I blew through a book in one night the first night I got it, and read my first Hunter S. Thompson book in three days. I’m now on my third literary meal, and I’ve shown no signs of disinterest or slowing down.
The amazing part for me is not the technology behind the e-ink shit garbage or 10,000-book storage, but at how well it motivates me to read. I can’t explain it very well, but this thing just really makes me want to drink in every page. It’s magic!
It also hooks up to the Vancouver Public Library’s e-publications online system, so I don’t have to haul my ass to the colosseum to find what I want. I don’t need to worry about late fees, either, as the file automatically returns itself or flies back to the VPL or whatever digital files do in space when you’re not looking. Completely amazing.
This must be what my dad felt when he first found out what an iPhone was. Christ!
In that vein, I’ve now been pulled to really examine my book collection, and separating the ones worth keeping from the ones that should have been thrown out years ago. Oh, this digital age! I’m all for it! Fuck you, old geysers still using the Encyclopaedia Britannica!
But, yes, I did end up keeping my Bigfoot books by Graham Romieu and Cats in Love.
Guys, this week of editing has made me feel great. It’s so awesome to be able to claim new space, new mental assertions and input, and new discoveries. It’s better than constantly moving my furniture around. Which I also did. Just today. Heh.