I read a series of books at the same time, flicking from one to the other, diving into the underground life of music, philosophy, fantasy, reality, fact or fiction. I have books for various times of days. Mornings are for writing, afternoons evenings for reading. I flitter, float about. The later the day becomes the more that fiction seems to resonate. Gently moving from theory to fantasy. I have books dotted around my house. A stolen moment here to pick up writing on Western Philosophy. A yoga manual perched by the sink in my bathroom, stood on one leg brushing my teeth. The shelf in my study contains all that music and culture information, books I have read and can constantly go back to, dive in again to remember sections or reacquaint with nuggets of information. Just by looking at the sleeve of a book and taking time to think, I can transport myself back in time, a tardis of information that is lodged somewhere in my brain waiting to be unleashed again. My living room contains a mixture, from magazines, journal, novels and more playful academic studies. Also books for guests. Ones other we have loved or those that haven’t quite resonated that passing people might grab hold of and take on their travels. A couple of books sit on my bedside table, again sliding from fact to fiction, generally combining both. Ways of supporting transference from daily life into dream states. There are patterns through everything. I find it difficult to watch TV without also reading at the same time, my brain not satisfied with just one form of stimulation but wanting to switch between states, multiple stories occurring at the same time. Most people also flick through their phones while watching TV, not content just to sink into one medium. I always feel better turning the blue screens off and sinking into a book, airplane mode, sat on the sofa, concentration honing in on just the one story, my mind switching off from reality. I find libraries both beautiful and scary. Overwhelmed by the enormous amount of information, again peering at sleeves to imagine what is inside each book. Trying to suck the information from the pages into my brain. Auto transference. Like the other Dr Strange I can raise my arms at the entrance to a library and suck the information of multiverses straight into me.
