There was this book that always showed up in my hands when I least expected it. It was by an author I love but it was short stories and I'm not much into short stories so I didn't really think to pick it up, and now that I wanted to browse through it and see if I could assign one of these stories to my hypothetical class in the syllabus, I can't find it. So now that it's late and I'm thinking too hard (again) I'm beginning to wonder if I will ever find that book, and if I'll ever read it. So that got me thinking about all the books that have ever got sifted down to the bottom of my "too read" pile. There's a bunch of them up in my parent's attic. I wonder if the books I've never read ever feel kind of lonely up there (even though they are grouped with others of their own kind) and wonder if they accept their "chosen but not read" status. And then I wonder if I'm missing some kind of sliver of genius in those books which, while it may not result in the cure for cancer, might somehow be appropriated (that's my new favorite world btw) into the world by some other means, maybe not in a paper or a piece of writing of my own, but maybe by a status update on Facebook, or maybe when I'm talking to my friends in a restaurant the waiter will over hear me mentioning this fantastic idea and think about it and decide that he should tell his sister who tells her friend who tells her mom who makes up a story about it to tell her son or daughter who is then raised by this amazing idea that I have never read about yet.
So that, verbatim, is exactly what I'm thinking about right now.
And why the heck didn't the creators of Facebook appropriate the word "Facebook" into its spell check dictionary? Ah, the mysteries of the universe
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