"she opened her book and her box of tools"

I think I use this quote as a title all the time.

This weekend, I went through and put sticky notes in all of the books I had marked as someone else's with the name of the owner so I could return them and not be the sort of person who keeps books (or at least not intentionally). (J - I've had some of your books for like three years and would love to return them to you).

I think I keep books both as artifact and as information made manifest. The first is a little more reverent, but not always, the second is more of a spine-cracking, dog-earing sort of love. (It's possible this metaphor is going to go into some very sexual places). I try extremely hard not to leave any signs of my prescense on boorowed books (though I'm definitely much more careful with other people's books than I am with the library's), but I am more rough-and-tumble with my own books. Our love is both transcendent and carnal.

I definitely feel safer around books. One of the extremely uncomfortable parts of our year-long transitional apartment was that I was away from my books, and no amount of interlibrary loans was going to make me feel any better about that. I'm comforted by the bulk of the books in this house, it makes me feel protected, and like I have a history, and like I have this set of not friends so much as friendly objects around me.

I've cut way back on the book buying since moving eastward. The public library here is so much better than Northampton's, and it is so much more expensive to live out here, that even though we're financially comfortable, I tend to curb my purchasing. Not enough curbing not to have five shelves of unread books, but I think it's time to resign myself to always having a bookcase of unread books, and just try to keep the contents replacing themselves entirely every five years or so. (A lot of my unread books are guilt-books, should-reads instead of want-to-reads).

And I used to think it was a presentation thing, that I wanted people to come into my space and realize that I am a person who reads. But most of the time, the majority of my books are shut away in a guest room with the door closed, and I really don't mind and it hasn't changed my book buying significantly. Not that we have a lot of new guests. Our entertaining has pretty much narrowed itself to Light's gaming group once a week, and all the other socializing we travel for. (though sometimes Hands and Hips let us cook for them at their place, which is always awesome).

Getting a pretty leather cover definitely reconciled me to the experience of the nook, and I've gotten books from the library, and it totally did help me cut down on the number of books I travel short or long distances with. And I can't rack up late fees on ebooks. But the visceral sensation of moving a book from unread to read shelves, or returning it to the library still appeals to me and so I have periods where I absolutely must have the object in my hands, and periods when I just want the text, and I'd read it spelled out in cathair tumbleweeds if I knew how.

There are books on my wedding jewelry, a tattooed book spine follows the largest scar I ever gave my self. I'm reading more now that I'm seeing less of people, now that I've given up on company, I'm going to more readings, I'm still doing book-related convention work. (Someday, I want a con to have a space dedicated to examples of book art. It would be composed of repurposed books, intricately tooled leather book covers, ingenious book lights, pictures and paintings of books and clever bookmarks)

Books, books, books.

"she opened her book and her box of tools"

I think I use this quote as a title all the time.

This weekend, I went through and put sticky notes in all of the books I had marked as someone else's with the name of the owner so I could return them and not be the sort of person who keeps books (or at least not intentionally). (J - I've had some of your books for like three years and would love to return them to you).

I think I keep books both as artifact and as information made manifest. The first is a little more reverent, but not always, the second is more of a spine-cracking, dog-earing sort of love. (It's possible this metaphor is going to go into some very sexual places). I try extremely hard not to leave any signs of my prescense on boorowed books (though I'm definitely much more careful with other people's books than I am with the library's), but I am more rough-and-tumble with my own books. Our love is both transcendent and carnal.

I definitely feel safer around books. One of the extremely uncomfortable parts of our year-long transitional apartment was that I was away from my books, and no amount of interlibrary loans was going to make me feel any better about that. I'm comforted by the bulk of the books in this house, it makes me feel protected, and like I have a history, and like I have this set of not friends so much as friendly objects around me.

I've cut way back on the book buying since moving eastward. The public library here is so much better than Northampton's, and it is so much more expensive to live out here, that even though we're financially comfortable, I tend to curb my purchasing. Not enough curbing not to have five shelves of unread books, but I think it's time to resign myself to always having a bookcase of unread books, and just try to keep the contents replacing themselves entirely every five years or so. (A lot of my unread books are guilt-books, should-reads instead of want-to-reads).

And I used to think it was a presentation thing, that I wanted people to come into my space and realize that I am a person who reads. But most of the time, the majority of my books are shut away in a guest room with the door closed, and I really don't mind and it hasn't changed my book buying significantly. Not that we have a lot of new guests. Our entertaining has pretty much narrowed itself to Light's gaming group once a week, and all the other socializing we travel for. (though sometimes Hands and Hips let us cook for them at their place, which is always awesome).

Getting a pretty leather cover definitely reconciled me to the experience of the nook, and I've gotten books from the library, and it totally did help me cut down on the number of books I travel short or long distances with. And I can't rack up late fees on ebooks. But the visceral sensation of moving a book from unread to read shelves, or returning it to the library still appeals to me and so I have periods where I absolutely must have the object in my hands, and periods when I just want the text, and I'd read it spelled out in cathair tumbleweeds if I knew how.

There are books on my wedding jewelry, a tattooed book spine follows the largest scar I ever gave my self. I'm reading more now that I'm seeing less of people, now that I've given up on company, I'm going to more readings, I'm still doing book-related convention work. (Someday, I want a con to have a space dedicated to examples of book art. It would be composed of repurposed books, intricately tooled leather book covers, ingenious book lights, pictures and paintings of books and clever bookmarks)

Books, books, books.