Most of the time, my appetite for stories and books and movies is voracious and unquenchable. I guess my appetite for many things is like that: experiences, conversations, cocktails, food, and new things of all sorts. Yet, this behavior probably peaks in my relationship to books and movies. For example, my Netflix queue currently has 911 movies in it counting Instant and Mailer queues together. For books, it is no different.
This is my ‘to read’ shelf. This is just the books I’ve queued up to be books I read the soonest. I have other books that I already own to be added to this shelf in the future once I weed it out a bit (both books to be read for the first time and books to be read again). I also have a piece of looseleaf folded in my wallet where I keep track of all the books I hear about and want to get access to eventually (this is mostly a Powell’s list, so that I can be more purposeful when I make pilgrimage to that wonderful ‘City of Books’).
I’m not going to lie, I actually really love having a shelf this packed with stories to engage over the next few years, as the number of books on the shelf shrinks and then swells again after a trip to Powell’s or an AbeBooks.com binge.
I guess I need help… but I don’t want it.