READING...

If I didn't enjoy the art that is reading, I don't know how I would spend my "free" time.
-Sometimes, I wonder just what the author/poet/journalist was thinking as the words flew from their fingertips/mouths/etc.
-Sometimes, I question whether they even understand what it is they're trying to inform me of.
-Often, I write snotty notes to them in the margins of a page, just to see if I'll return to that page, finding a disgruntled response or an angry outburst over my free analysis of their work.
-And, of course, I find it easier just to skip the book and drift off to sleep.

Damn you, Mary Shelley.
I've read through your words so many times before. We should have history. But even Franz Kafka is kinder on my schedule than you and your raving lunatic of a scientist, Dr. Frankenstein.
Damn you to hell.