but actually, very much recurrent, sporadic thing.
for the past three days, i've buried myself under a rather light piece of literature, a compilation of jessica zafra's essays entitled Twisted 8 1/2. happy to have read it, more than to have bought it. anyway.
the joy of reading is something to gain experience in. enough to share, and tell people how much more enjoyable an afternoon sitting-down with a book than having it on-screen. and this is a somewhat relevant scene to point to, with the cinema going on and on and booming about, proliferating bad projects[films] and bad adaptations. see, the director is not the author at all times. neither do they really meet eye to eye. rarely do they understand each other and try to convert the play of words and the imagery onto cellulose and make do with it. maybe they'll win an award.
back to the book thing. now, i admire j. zafra's handiwork of writing, and she seems very smart. and if you think she doesnt, then you are wrong. i am protective of those who i read. for example, stephen king. i admit that i consider his novels more of the suspense genre than the supernatural/horror, because the horror is kind of predictable, and therefore sad. but he makes images with his words, which is wonderful. and i've said that the monsters are lame, so the good part really is where the hero/ine is about to uncover a secret/murder/memory fragment/random scary sh!tz. i defend him from my mother, she says he's lame. i say not entirely, its just that the movies ruin the imagery.
so, books. i've made my decision to make books a priority. so i'll have more time to read for leisure. it's about time too.