A Book Survey

1.Which book has been on your shelves the longest?
I have no idea! I have so many books that i don't know which one arrived first.

2. What is your current read, your last read and the book you’ll read next?
The last book I read was F.Scott Fitzgerald's The Great Gatsby and currently reading The journals of Sylvia Plath.
3. What book did everyone like and you hated?
I don't stick with books I hate but I felt that I needed to finish Ayn rand even though I despised her and her stupid, squalid little stories.

4. Which book do you keep telling yourself you’ll read, but you probably won’t?


5. Which book are you saving for “retirement?”
None.

6. Last page: read it first or wait till the end?
Wait to the end!

7. Acknowledgements: waste of ink and paper or interesting aside?
I read the acknowledgements. The author has written them for a reason and the people listed aided the story.

8. Which book character would you switch places with?
Alice in Lewis Carroll's Alice in Wonderland, Lestat in Anne Rice's Vampire Lestat. It had for me to determine though because I mainly read dystopia novels like Brave new world and Animal farm. These novels do not have characters you would want to be, they are worlds we must avoid.

9. Do you have a book that reminds you of something specific in your life (a person, a place, a time)?
Too many people. Too many stories.

10. Name a book you acquired in some interesting way.
Most of my books are bought second hand which I think is interesting in itself. I love finding the notes people have written and left in their books long after the paper has turned brown and frayed at the edges. I find bus tickets, bookmarks and once even a condom wrapper.

11. Have you ever given away a book for a special reason to a special person?
I'm always buying books for a certain someone but I'm yet to see him read them. The first edition 1960 print of that epic Huey Pierce Long book is still sitting there.
1.
12. Which book has been with you to the most places?
I have had my childhood books the longest like Cinderella, Whose behind the door?, Grug and Beatrix Potter. I have now given them to my son. It s amazing to sit down with him on my knee and read the exact same stories that I read as a child. He absolutely loves books too.

13. Any “required reading” you hated in high school that wasn’t so bad ten years later?
No! Navigating is still tedious and predictable.

14. What is the strangest item you’ve ever found in a book?
I stated above, a condom wrapper made better by the fact that the book was called 'Lucky'.

15. Used or brand new?
Used.

16. Stephen King: Literary genius or opiate of the masses?
Opiate of the masses unless it's under his pseudonym Bachman. Green mile was also potent.

17. Have you ever seen a movie you liked better than the book?
This never happens.

18. Conversely, which book should NEVER have been introduced to celluloid?
I don't know but I'm terrified of watching he film adaption of 1984.

19. Have you ever read a book that’s made you hungry, cookbooks being excluded from this question?

20. Who is the person whose book advice you’ll always take?
My fiancé Mark's.

Good Day- A Murder Ballad

It's a good day
for the pretty ones.
A good day
for the spiders.
As he laid to rest the beauty death
and everything he derided.

He held her to her word and
silenced her pretty mouth.
A good day
for the sultry woman haunting the South.

A rusty belt, a simple kiss, a river bed
and silence for the ages.
Her mouth can never speak after he has
soothed his rages.
A pretty girl.
A pretty heart.
A lock of hair.
A good day to depart.

Unsent Letters

My dearest darling,
I hope this letter finds you well and that you receive my blossoming flowers. They seem such a small piece of my appreciation but I hope, I pray, maybe hold my breath a little that you understand how much I need you. Last night I met a call girl that had no teeth, no waist and no eye shadow but she spoke about Baudelaire through red wine teeth so I had no way of ever turning my back on her. Letters are so impersonal even when they are addressed. They are more streams of consciousness than any communication. Nevertheless, I think of you constantly and soon I will hand my crucifix on your door.

Edward.

Perfect Wife.

By Danielle Searby.

Blood looks like motor oil,
engines choke and fall apart.
I cough on your fumes.
Servitude looms.
I've wrapped my legs around you
and cleaned your bones of all your marrow.

The engine comes to a grinding halt.
Standing tall becomes my fault.
Years ago I must have asked for all
the clean dishes I have passed.

The gears never change,
the growling engine threatens to derange.
All you touch becomes mine.
I've cleaned your body, your house and your mind.
For some reason I look under my skirt
and fine engine oil and all your dirt.

Crisp Apple Orchards

Running through the orchard.
Rabbits running haywire.
The country breeze scattering stones on
the country road.
The long, winding country road.

It's that kind of season.
We've waited hours for the storm to come.
The wind picks up.
It won't set us down.

We wait patiently for Summer.
We can see what we plunder.
The skies never darken here.
The rain never comes.
The declining years are in for the long haul.

Alice's Intervention

The bright light cascaded down like the light that follows sickly sweet angelic choirs. Alice coughed, a haggard sound escaped her deathly ribcage. A face came into view. The face was obscured, just a shadow thanks to the choir of angels and sneak thieves. She thought what a pity that was because the face, although blurred seemed so handsome. She coughed, a sickly stream of serpent lava... the face came into view. He was handsome, he looked just like an angel. His steel blue eyes gazing down at her with such concern. She murmured something about 'sneak thieves, drug dreams' and then noticed the stethoscope.

She came back to earth, to the hospital for sick humanity. Alice wondered if she was still human but the burning in her veins told her she was at least on the same plain of existence as them. She coughed again, blood curdling and frothing from her mouth. Her teeth chattered at the sensation. She gripped the morphine dispenser, an old and familiar ally and pumped it through her system so fast her veins shook.

Drink The Poison

'And is she the reason why he's dead?'
No one could nod but no one could defend her either.
It seemed like the ultimate catch 22.
'She flew away right before he did it you know', remarked one woman dressed with bouffant hair and a dead fox wrapped around her slender neck.
'I heard she did it on purpose!' 'The nerve of the woman!' 'A witch!' agreed another .
Was there any real way to fight the accusations from people who weren't even there? Who had no intimate knowledge of the events that had transpired. 'It's pointless' sighed the bride. 'I might as well drink the poison'.