dashing to read

when i see other people's blogs listing reads from their ends just this year alone, i get a tinge of envy. gone are the days when i can finish a book in an hour or two. i used to time my reading hour as a teener, not because of severe boredom but out of being annoyingly unequivocal. now grazing the meadows of my cluttered dotage, i take months and months to finish a novel. this rory gilmore line from the second season of gg may simply be the proverbial waif's levitation in dreamland, "i've read only 300 books and i'm already 16?!", the stars hollow ingenue utters loudly while staring at a harvard library housing thirteen million volumes of printed and bound work. but as lorelai retorted, "honey, no one expects you to read every one of them."

in my rugged terrain, there is no urge to grasp all the bookish goodness in order to make a decent tete a tete. there's no reading race in the team room during breaks. or in the self-contained enclaves in an impromptu visit. or in the social swirl somewhere within the three-bedroomed hub in an abohorrently expensive area. jay gatsby might as well be that screaming old guard in nine while atticus finch is as obscure a figure as the leading thespian who portrayed him in the film version.

but to savor the beauty of the priceless tomes is a fervent passion. there's this longing to purchase a pile of literary classics that i know deep down would merely gather dust in the shelf. so i pass. however i'm trying to cut the crap in my free hours in order to relish some reading time. with due respect to a michico kakutani essay, i'll be a dasher for a change rather than the ultimate dawdler. fingers crossed.