I have a list of books I want to read, most of them are in my cell waiting to be read. Not one of them is fiction, not that I hold a negative view of fiction- I simply don’t see relevance. I am far more interested in direct knowledge, applicable education. This results from a lifetime of wasted time.
Now I am pushing 40 and feel like I am way behind the curve of success and my life’s purpose. So I am sprinting to catch up. This means I am a reading machine and in order to retain the information I need I must interact with it in some way. So I write.
Often I write about things I am reading about and apply them to my environment, for understanding. This results in naming my environment and finding errors in it, a double-edged sword for sure. On one edge I see the flaws that need to be fixed and the ways those flaws have been fixed or addressed (for better or for worse) in other scenerios. On the other edge I am now painfully aware of my conditions, both as a human being and as an incarcerated human being.
So many books, so little time. I often wonder how I will read all the stuff I want! Some text was so profound I want to reread it again and again. Some text I’m pissed off I ever read…I could name a few of those, and some I am so pleasantly surprised by I wish I could write a thank you card to its author.
I love books.
To contact me you must be a humanist…
“A real humanist can be identified more by his trust in the people, which engages him in their struggle, then by a thousand actions in their favor without that trust.” (“Pedagogy of the Oppressed” by Paulo Freire )