If people ask me what kind of books I can not live without them. Well yes, I can live my life happily without any books frankly. During teen I devoured everything whatever I could access. After teen I read mostly old religious texts, anything fancy with people; All sort of human belief ritual etc… sometimes actually a monk or shaman or ordinary people ’ original hands written/drawn symbols in rice papers. Now mostly all kind of old odd kind of stuff. I obsessed about anything old; world of old oddity. I am a lover of all sorts old things, well known or nameless. I am looking into myself. I have an obsessive personality so I always obsess something; anything fancies me at the time of my mood, not all them same time. For example, an old text, I went through the world of ideas like thunderstorm, what I want to know, as a bone eater, thoroughly confidingly through its entire bones, crunch crunch its skeleton, then I know what it is. Subtext, underneath hidden meaning. I can interpretation in anyway as I please. I am not interested in its well documented story; they are all the same, rather I am interested in, why author had to be twisted that way. Why it had gone off from its shell to hell of human endeavor! Our human desire, every women are whores every men are bastards! Nature is there -common don’t pretend you are a saint! I don’t believe saints. - So I know what I fell in love really then move on next, a like a butterfly, suck everything.
I dig everything what I fancy on, don’t worry I am not fancy on you so I am not stalking on you online or libraries, or long journey for your graveyard and amorously touching your headstones Ok? He hee giggle geekgeek... this information age, made me heaven for my obsession. I can go everywhere! No one stop me no regime stop me! I consider myself expert in that area right! In my way ofcourse, believe me I do!! Mostly dead ones! Dead people are safe, I can challenge them without rebutted, that is why! I am a something of tyranny! To be frankly I don’t fancy any living poets and painters! Sorry living poets and painters! I stop read your poems! So don’t worry I am not stealing your unfounded bounty tiny fleeted imagination! Do you think I am wrong fancy on dead people! I might. Alan has given me his blessing though. “Off you go!” He says. hehee he think it is safe for me fell in love dead peopleee! I have some well known poets first edition you know. I bet you are pang of envy me! I knew where the places for some great things for great price! I won’t tell you that is my secret! Still some places, although all have been exploited. I feel I lived thousand years ago, somewhere Middle East, I might have been a wondering eyed Pharaoh! hee he al al…Sitting at the Mediterranean Sea throne, ridding Sahara desert sandstorm and banqueting blazing sunset with countless lovers!! And recite glory of love O yes Love!! Love that you could die for, whatever that mean! That is right! Old things are not threatening me, not punishes my adequacy in this modern world, a patron of comfort blanket. That was how I was brought up by partly; oldie moldy sort…!
Teen age years, we didn’t have much chance to side glance, just straight just straight,…virgin… one liner street we have to walk straight head up - hungry carnivorous beasts were prowling around fences and waiting for falling angles. That was it, well yes in Mao regime. Not because I collect books sake of” collection” rather, did not have chance to do anything else. Moldy smell of integrity, all most everything; houses, books, furniture, even cooking wears, even linens, even clothes - I have very beautiful old style velvet coats from Alan’s mom, I wore them at sometimes! People were looking at me, I didn’t know whether they were looking at me or the ancient styled gown, frankly I don’t care -- everything you name it. Sometimes I amazed myself how could I so fluently cope with modern techno-entourage. Sometimes I feel like a thousand years old person inside of me still, as my attachment love old thing is quite complex. Part of me I suppose…
To be continued…
