inmyriadbits (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
inmyriadbits) wrote2007-01-17 12:44 am
inmyriadbits) wrote2007-01-17 12:44 am
Entry tags:
Chocolate and books. What more could a girl ask for?
I was going through the random piles and bits of papers I collected over the past few weeks, and I found this thing I hand-wrote one night. I'd just finished one of the Lord Peter books (possibly Unpleasantness at the Bellona Club), it was after midnight, and I became suddenly maudlin about the existence of books.
I'm now typing it up to post. It feels appropriate; I just had a lovely evening hanging out with my roommate Abby which included dinner, the best hot chocolate EVER (main page of restaurant here; menu description: "Thick chocolate with vanilla cream. A choice of dark, milk, or white chocolate"; I got dark, and it was like drinking hot chocolate mousse), and a trip to the Strand. Thus, the maudlin, rambly book stuff.
I love books. They're really like little miracles, aren't they? And entire world can be bound up in paper--a matter of inches in any one dimension. And what is a book, really? Paper and ink, nothing more--26 letters and 14 punctuation marks. Sometimes they're not even that, in this digital age; books can just be black and white pixels on a computer screen. If 26 letters and 14 punctuation marks creating Narnia, Middle-Earth, Lord Peter Wimsey, Miles Vorkosigan, and Elizabeth Bennett isn't a miracle, I don't know what is.
A book is rather like the human body in that way. We're all just cells; we're flesh and blood in a shockingly literal sense. It's strange to look at your own arm and remember that it's not really an arm, but skin over tissue and blood, wrapped around a bone. And yet, it's true. What a paradox. The firing of a neuron is so small, but somehow that births this idea; the contraction of a muscle fiber produces this act of writing it down. How can such small things contain entire universes? It's so beautiful.
Jan 4, 2007
12:56am
In other news, I was looking through the Dorothy Sayers books they have available in the library, and they have a rare edition of some book she edited, so now I have to go look at it. :) *is nerdy*
Also, I'm reminded of this link. BOOKs! Hee!
I'm now typing it up to post. It feels appropriate; I just had a lovely evening hanging out with my roommate Abby which included dinner, the best hot chocolate EVER (main page of restaurant here; menu description: "Thick chocolate with vanilla cream. A choice of dark, milk, or white chocolate"; I got dark, and it was like drinking hot chocolate mousse), and a trip to the Strand. Thus, the maudlin, rambly book stuff.
I love books. They're really like little miracles, aren't they? And entire world can be bound up in paper--a matter of inches in any one dimension. And what is a book, really? Paper and ink, nothing more--26 letters and 14 punctuation marks. Sometimes they're not even that, in this digital age; books can just be black and white pixels on a computer screen. If 26 letters and 14 punctuation marks creating Narnia, Middle-Earth, Lord Peter Wimsey, Miles Vorkosigan, and Elizabeth Bennett isn't a miracle, I don't know what is.
A book is rather like the human body in that way. We're all just cells; we're flesh and blood in a shockingly literal sense. It's strange to look at your own arm and remember that it's not really an arm, but skin over tissue and blood, wrapped around a bone. And yet, it's true. What a paradox. The firing of a neuron is so small, but somehow that births this idea; the contraction of a muscle fiber produces this act of writing it down. How can such small things contain entire universes? It's so beautiful.
Jan 4, 2007
12:56am
In other news, I was looking through the Dorothy Sayers books they have available in the library, and they have a rare edition of some book she edited, so now I have to go look at it. :) *is nerdy*
Also, I'm reminded of this link. BOOKs! Hee!
no subject