Do not judge a book by it's cover...especially The Shack, because if I would of known the Lord God Almighty came into form of an African [W]oman, I would of never turned down the 5'2 guy with slicked back hair asking me, "what's the plan tonight?" But that hobby itself has lent itself credibility in the department of life skills.
1. I do not judge others merely because lame-oh buzzed concert going guys don't need to be a musician if the manage to not slur and remember my name ..
2. I am now officially the best lip reader and
3. I can successfully flee a stage one clinger which can be characterized as stealth. But I refrain and continue to my point. Books.
Reading has become a more common guest in my home recently. And I've realized that though my days know nothing besides post graduate self identity destruction and career paths, I choose to waste away my youth with lasses such as Jane Austen and lads like C. Lew and I can't help but wonder, how would it be to have such a presence answering "two packs of sugar please," when I clearly have only given them one too many because I'm simply too damn nervous they are drinking coffee with me. To enjoy the actual presence of a classic love in nonliterary form would be the day I stop reading to concoct a counterpart. To stop waiting for a response to my thoughts. My current tendency is reading of love. But I am apt to find certainty that such words and diction are merely ordinary and inadequate for the reader.
Back on rickety track,
T
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