My Private I

Reasons to buy a Kindle

Disclaimer: I didn't sleep with anyone in Amazon PR.

1. "It is just as marvelous that, when we leave for travel to exotic destinations devoid of English bookstores, we no longer look like refugees, weighted down with all our worldly possessions in the form of 15 or 20 books between us. Not only can we carry several hundred books inside our Kindles, we can buy more anywhere along the way, eliminating that frantic rush to a bookstore the night before flying to Beijing or driving into Alabama."- Bruce Tognazzini

2. Return of the Unitasking. (Yes- the word has no sex appeal like unitard) but reading the Kindle sends my brain to a cozy living room where there's the faint crackle of logs settling in the fireplace, a blanket worth curling up in and the soft whisper of snow falling outside.  Mr. 23 hipster high on sunrise-after- sunrise after Red Bulls and modafinil scrips can have my multi-tasking. I don't miss it. 

 

Goodbye Bob- You are missed.

 Back in September, I answered an ad on Craigslist of a book club seeking new members.  I met Bob, not through his art but through the lens of books we'd read each month- Geek Love, Like Water for Elephants, The Year of Magical Thinking, The Tin Drum.  Over the months, we'd peel away the onion skins- layers we'd shed of ourselves- our hopes, fears and secrets. He had a quiet, intense gravity and I always felt everything would be right in the world if you had a few more Bob's around. But, that's where he drew his power and artistic vision- his brilliant oneness made his truly unique.

Our book club met for dinner last Thursday night- jerk seasoned pork chops over rice, sugar cane, grilled peaches a la mode. In retrospective, it was a bittersweet menu for the last time we'd be in Bob's company before passed away in his sleep on Sunday.  The book we read that month, "The Brief and Wonderous Life of Oscar Wao" and a painting I discovered of his called "Set Back" was a perhaps a portent of a life stolen when he had so many years left to give. To us. To the art community. To the world.  May his soul R.I.P.

 

Things I Never Found

1. A MENTOR.  When I was younger, I imagined my grown-up self having a wiser, older professional to show me the way (not into bed- I got that out of my system in college when I became good friends with my microeconomics professor who I slept with the night after finals as if that made it any more ethical).  

I was seeking someone I worked with who was truly passionate about their job, to teach me different ways of looking at the world, to convince me I was making a real difference, to instill a desire to move on up in the office. The kind of person who was married to an equally creative, genius half- architect, sculptor, teacher, writer, tinkerer. They had a lived-in cabin in the woods or grey shingled cottage by the shore weathered by the salt-air. We'd sit around the dinner table ringed with empty wine bottles and sticky dessert plates- artifacts you'd find the next morning as proof of hours of conversation you remember passing but not exactly what was said and by who. They'd lend you their spare bed, a freshly laundered white pillow and quilt you could trace the stiches with your fingers.  You'd wake up and a coffee would be waiting for you in a kitchy oversized mug. 

You can afford to be ambitious in your imagination because reality only brings disappointment. Not the crushing kind but the soft, blurry kind. Like walking out of a matinee in mid-afternoon while your eyes are still adjusting to the light and realizing the characters were not right for the role and the plot sucked and that was 2 1/2 hours you wasted. That's how I feel about about my long and meandering marketing/advertising cum copywriting cum web content career. I never met a boss I could truly learn from and grow with. Can I have my 15 years back?