Books, books, books,

As a child, my mother would hide my book to get me to the dinner table without reading. My mother, 12 schools in 12 years and many, many books made me who I am.

Books That affected me deeply:

• Huckleberry Finn - Mark Twain
• As I lay Dying, The Sound and The Fury - Wm. Faulkner
• The Sun Also Rises and virtually every word by Ernest Hemmingway
• The God of Small Things, Arundhati Roy
• The Unbearable Lightness of Being, Milan Kundera
• The Life and Times of Michael K. and Waiting for the Barbarians - J. M. Coetzee
• Ironweed, Legs and Billy Phelan's Finest Game by Wm. Kennedy
• The Once and Future King - T. H. White
• Stranger In a Strange Land - Robert Heinlein
• The Big Sky and The Way West by A. B. Guthrie
• All the Pretty Horses - and all the rest by Cormac McCarthy
• Legends of the Fall, Farmer, Wolf and more by Jim Harrison

Old and Young

I am old and young.  I am still.

Holidays

Holidays make me happy because:
1) Millions of people are trying to make other people feel loved or at lease sucked up to, which most of us do enjoy.
2) No matter the reason, life is a miracle and consciousness is an even greater miracle. I feel deeply grateful. I'm not sure to whom or what, but I still do.
4) I like the colored lights, ...the food, the candy and the presents I did not deserve.

 

Holidays make me cranky because I feel guilty:
1) I have never done enough good, and I know I could always have done more.
2) I probably didn't tell the people that I love that I do love them enough. (That is an odd sentence, but I like it.)
3) I am a cheap bastard, there is just not enough money to be as generous as I could be and also... as selfish as I am.