A Desk...
Small, but it holds all the books I've read the past couple of years.
Which leads to some choices, and I begin the cull today:
Mark Twain, letters...gone
Anais Nin....gone
Henry Miller...gone...
Nabokov...gone
Now, my removing books is not necessarily an indication of quality, it's indicative of whether I will possibly in time return to them.
These are books I have no need to revisit.
And so, all in all, at the end about 30 books, culled from the shelf. The bookstore takes all but three: "6 Fictional Walks in the Woods" - Eco, "Republic of Whores" - Czech, and "The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck" which I never read but probably picked up for someone at work and failed to give to them. Clearly I didn't give a f*ck.
And this, the lightest of purges, I could go again, go deeper, I mean, there is not enough life left to revisit every book I've read, and while there are those I want to keep - eg: Bernal Diaz - "The Conquest of New Spain", and I have a copy already, but damn, as sideways as my adventures go I've got nothing on him.
And there are others, and I can see a slight unconscious process at work, clear the debris of my learning and the path becomes clear, this is where I am, this is where I'm going, the shelves are due a few more scourings, but it's a start.
Otherwise, the desk, it lends a nice wooden tone to an apartment completely lacking in character. Oak, small, but suited to the space, it lights the fire under my ass to get rid of the rocks cluttering the living room and make the space "livable", after a fashion, it would help a great deal to make some commitment towards entertaining...
As for my writing, it's taking a bit of a hit, I'm out of internet for the month, a week to go before the new plan kicks in, so as time and the library permit...