Signifying nothing

Mrs. Chicken tagged me for a meme in which one is to pick up a nearby book, flip to page 123, and find and post the 6th, 7th, and 8th sentences on the page. (And then tag five more bloggers, of course.)

Luckily for me, I’m sitting in the office when I read her tag, so I’m not surrounded primarily by Goodnight, Moon and Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What Do You See? Instead, I’m nestled between my three bookcases and my desk. I love my bookcases – I love my little system for organizing my books. On the two bookcases that stand side by side? Non-fiction arranged topically. There’s fertility, infertility, miscarriage, pregnancy after miscarriage, pregnancy, labor and delivery, newborn/baby care, breastfeeding, infant/toddler, baby sign language, early childhood education, medical mumbo-jumbo (those are the 50-pounders that would break a toe if you dropped one), and Bibles/theology/Christian miscellany.

But that other bookcase? Oh, that’s my favorite. Treasured fiction – my collection pared down after years of moving hither and yon – these are the volumes I just have to own. I need to feel the pages, to breathe that scent of paper and ink and time. It might not technically be the book closest to me (I did have to stand up and pull it off the shelf), but here it is: William Faulkner’s The Sound and the Fury. Sometime, I will have to tell the story of my first real, major, literary research paper, when I tried to tackle this work as a 10th grader. Interesting folks, these Comptons of Yoknapatawpha County, and such crazy words and ways that Faulkner uses to paint their picture and tell their story. I fell in love with his writing that year, and when I’m homesick for the South, I turn to him again and again. 

Anyway, without further ado, here we go a-meme-ing:

“Because they dont ask thirty-five cents for it,” I says. “That’s how I know it’s not as good.”

He held the twenty cent one in his hands, drawing it through his fingers.

Bloggers? Friends? Countrymen-and-women? I’ve got company, and my posting lately is sporadic at best. Several of you come to mind as people I’d love to hear from – I’d love the little glimpse of you, of what you’re reading or what you love to read. Tell you what: if you’re in a blog slump or if you’ve been having trouble finding time to write, consider yourself tagged. (And let me know, so I can come read yours!)

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2 Responses to Signifying nothing

  1. Mrs. Chicken says:

    Thanks for playing. It’s good to see you here. I think many of us are busy with our real lives lately.

  2. fizzledink says:

    Oh, real life… It’s just more than I can handle sometimes right now. Interestingly enough though, I decided to post this whole week and got my writing done ahead of time. I feel pretty good about that – so thank you once again, my friend, for getting me kick-started and back into my writing zone. You help me on so many levels.

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