Book Bank.

I am a hoarder. It's as simple as that. I hoard. Nothing horrible like, cats or my trimmed hair or worse - dead bodies. Oprah is about to come knocking my door down saying "Lordy" in that black way of hers that without fail makes the audience laugh - every-time. It's more aristocratic things like books, letters, magazines. I have over a thousand books. Probably more but I don't really want to go into exact numbers. The fact of the matter is I own ALOT of books. I have a room that is 3/4 full of books.

When I first "moved" out of home I took my books to the lady on Duporth avenue Book Exchange, my once a weekend hangout where my friend and I would skate to and get a cold beverage after buying a cheap but awesome new Goosebumps choose your own adventure or in the later years - Plath collection + sold every last one of them [yes - even my favourite book, First Edition, Sleepwalking by Meg Wolitzer, it was cut + run time baby] I don't even remember how much I got for them all but it seemed like alot at the time. Back then I had about 40-50 books. which I thought was pretty great. I loved my books, they were all read at least twice. About 20 more than three or four times each. I just ate the words right of the pages and couldn't get enough. Only other book worms can understand this phenomenon where you feel a hunger for words, knowledge, another life in pages. The sweet escape.

So my problem now is this - all these fucking books. I have moved house twice this year. Which is better than last year - Five times in one year - ouchy. So regardless of the fact that I was homeless alot if not the majority of the time I was still buying + collecting books and magazines. Reverse garbage sell Hard Covers for one dollar and get this - Paper Backs for 50c. My girlfriend and I were going to the West End Markets every Saturday so when I would just "drop in" I never left with out any less than 10-12 books at a time. My excuse was - "they are just too cheap to leave here to rot!" it worked a charm every time though I could winsomely charm the frown of worry from her face quite quickly by distracting her by the amazingly "cheap fruit and veges we got today and what should we have for dinner - I'm well over stir fry - should we pick up some more Tofu....?" It usually worked. Then there were the times when she was at work/drum practice/other wise occupied and I would go there in her car + just not show her the sheer amount of books I had acquired from Reverse Garbage/Book Outlets that day.

I have three suitcases of books in the shed under the house. Nine boxes of books in my spare room. One Bookshelf - crammed. Three Coles shopping baskets of books and another 3 boxes with other various fashion/photography/design/crocheting/knitting magazines. Why? Why do I have all these "things" they make me feel better. Having them here, knowing they are "mine" gives me this secret little thrill. Similar to what I believe a fat kid would feel when it slides another piece of pizza off the table when it's parents aren't looking. Knowing that I own all of these books and I can do what ever I want with them. Read them - as many times as I want [which trust me I do - I demolish one book a day, it's an addiction.] They are all sorted in a certain way - each book has the month and year that I first read it written [in pen, I'm the only bloody person who can complain about it] followed by any other time I have completed reading it. there are also little side coloured post it's sticking out of 9/10 of the books. These indicate quotes, phrases, poems, songs, life [similar] reflections and other such things. So I don't just "collect" these books. I LOVE them. I truly do. I have alot of pride in the way I have obtained so many.

I tried doing the "free book swapping" for awhile but became quite anxious leaving a book randomly in the city. What if it rains? The Ibis can't be trusted, it could very well shit on the thing + then a cleaner would just ditch it in the bin + it would be gone forever. Or some juvenile delinquent could use it as Rollie/toilet/Ransom paper. The possibilities were endless and there was no way I was going to ABANDON one of my books somewhere that I couldn't properly watch it, care for it. Occasionally move it from one box/shelf to another.

Selfish? Maybe, but fuck, the way I feel about my books is the way a fat kid would feel if it just found an entire PIZZA waiting for it after school Life doesn't get better than THAT!