A Pithy Update

I've devoted the past few nights to reading. I've laughed myself to sleep because of David Sedaris' Me Talk Pretty One Day and man, his profoundly witty prose is genius :). I also finished The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night and it was written from the perspective of an autistic. The author is obsessive compulsive like me so I related a lot. =P The style is delightfully airy and heartfelt. I also finished The Time Traveller's Wife and though the premise is ingenuous and the prose very elegant, I struggled to finish it just because it didn't have the suspense that sustains. Lastly, I'm switching between The Hundred Years of Solitude and The World is Flat for those nights when I want to get more meat from my readings.

My readings constitute the highlight of my day. I love how the laconic remarks and platitudes metamorphize into effigies, how they unearth the mines of subconsciously planted desires, and how their evanescent nature bring about such a unmistakable clarity albeit temporal. My soul traverses stars in the night. But afterwards it goes downhill until the morning when I pick it up from the nadir.

Like an analgesic that invisibly circulates around my body, I can’t shake off the feeling that my life is becoming desultory. I can't explain it. It's a mix of euphoria and loneliness, victory and regret, love and indifference. All I have left now are the words in between.