Tucked amidst the pages of time itself...

i hate books. not really. i only hate them because i really cannot stop buying them. i was doing pretty good this month. and then liz and a new book series just kicked the shit out of that endeavor. still, there is nothing quite so alluring as losing oneself into the vague obscurity of the written word. just the act of opening a book is akin to unwrapping the most delectable of chocolates. you sit there, fingers tingling as they brush the cover, the faint scent of book and dried ink swathing you in a shroud of anticipation. though the book barely brushes against your skin, you imagine the feel of the story within, of the headiness which can consume your mind just as readily as any drug, should you let it. No greater temptation exists than to sink yourself into the pages, to allow yourself to pool like a pond of silver in the very heart of the book you hold. The feeling is indescribable and yet i sit here, trying to form words eloquent and yet primitive enough to encompass such a marvelous sensation. the closest experience i have had to this bittersweet high is drifting to sleep on the wings of the best drug, an angel singing of lost worlds. this, i suppose, is why drugs have never, ever appealed to me. why do such a thing when i can simply peruse the collection of a book store. it's not only healthier (still debated), but cheaper. books hold within their bindings a thousand words, a thousand moving pictures of which there can be no worries, except concern for the characters within the tale. books lure, like sirens, whispering of forgotten things, of things the deepest corner of the heart surely yearns for. i lose myself willingly, as surely as any alcoholic or drug addict, to such ethereal seduction. and so i both love and hate books, for who does not secretly hate their own vices?

...uggh...i do rather go on, do i not? i find this to be a rather perfect oddity. though i never meant it to be so, this does seem a bit ostentatious. however, i do like my book rant and so i shall post it. though if anyone reaches this little note here, i shall be most surprised.
oh no. my speech has gone weirdy. i must rectify this at once...now! off to find some teen-culture references which shall surely place me in the correct state of mind to be a perfectly umitigated grammatical horror...(*the samll creature shuffles off to find afore mentioned teen-culture references. "the mask of sanity must be preserved!"*)
now...speaking of masks...i wrote this little passage for my latest story, but the imagery didn't quite fit the feel of the story, but i still like it. anway, the backstory is mainly that the main character is attending a masquerade ball which has been thrown in honor of her seinsa, her teacher/master of sorts. and she's just arrived. tell me what you think..."Her gaze traveled the familiar room, now framed by the eyes of an unfamilair face. Patrons gathered together, whispering from behind illusory smiles and glassy cheeks, shadowed eyes speculative in the dim light."
neh. it's a bit too flowery, i think...