22 August 2011

August 22, 2011

A few days ago, I was talking about how I don’t really like buying things anymore. How all I care about is time and people. This, of course, was a lie. I love buying things.

Sometimes I wonder if I buy books because it feels like writing them. I can lie to myself for a minute, tell myself that the book I just bought is my own.

I tell myself all kinds of things, actually: You’re a famous musician, you’re a wildly successful entrepreneur, you’re an award winning public speaker, you know sign language. None of these things are true, though. They’re just fun to think about while I’m driving.

A few years ago I was writing a paper for school, and I was making the argument that when people stop pretending to be rockstars they’ve become old. Even as I wrote it, I knew I was lying. People don’t pretend to be rockstars because they’re young, they pretend to be rockstars because they’re insecure.

It wasn’t a good paper.

Now Amazon.com has something called text stats. For example: “Sex, Drugs and Cocoa Puffs”, which I’m reading now, has 3,843 sentences and cost $1 for ever 9,216 words.

“NKJV Bible: Snap Flap” has 59,289 sentences and costs $1 for every 38,172 words, which seems like a better deal depending on what you’re looking for.

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