chuckgelman

I spent hours tonight tearing books from shelves, only to replace them in a slightly altered order. I was stricken with a sudden fit of compulsion and anxiety. I can't think of a reason besides that that sort of thing seems to happen to me pretty often, and always over something totally inane. I think my bookshelves might actually look a little nicer now though . If not for my aversion to dependency I suppose I would get me some Paxil. I just don't like the idea of relying on a pill to bring me to equilibrium. Then again, I drink to make myself happy. But happy isn't really equilibrium. I dunno if that's true or if I'm just deluding myself. Anyway, I took a shower and read for a while and the anxiety went on its way. I finished Post Office. It was top fucking notch. Now I'm re-reading Wonder Boys. I wonder if it's going to be odd to read it before I go to bed and then watch the movie as I do every night. I'm sure I'll live.
That's all for now.