A Series of Unfortunate Events by Lemony Snicket
Smile, Drama and Sisters by Raina Telgemeier
Scott Pilgrim by Brian Lee O'Malley
Welcome to Night Vale by Jseoph Fink and Jeffrey Cranor
Magik by Angie Sage
Sh*t My Dad Says by Justin Halpern
Guards, Guards!, Wyrd Sisters, Lords and Ladies, Hogfather, A Hat Full of Sky and Men at Arms by Terry Pratchett
Baby Mouse and Squish by Jennifer Holm and Matthew Holm
Garfield by Jim Davis
The Story of Ferdinand by Munro Leaf
Alice in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll
The Terrible and Wonderful Reasons why I run Long Distances by Matthew Inman
Grimm Sisters by Michael Buckley
Harry Potter by J K Rowling
A Hero's Guide to Saving Your Kingdom by Christopher Healy
Whip It by Shauna Cross
Lady Cottington's Pressed Fairy Book by Terry Jones and Brain Froud
My Name is Mina by David Almond
Bone by Jeff Smith
Jinx by Sage Blackwood
The Graveyard Book by Neil Gaimen
Slapstick by Kurt Vonnegut
A House Called Awful End by Philip Ardagh by Christianna Brand
Dying to Meet You (43 Old Cemetery Road) by Kate Klise
Showing posts with label list. Show all posts
Showing posts with label list. Show all posts
Sunday, January 24, 2016
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
a short list of places where I have read books
In bed, at the kitchen table, on the couch, in the bathtub, on the toilet, sitting on the floor, laying on the floor with my legs up the wall, in a closet, in the yard on lawn chairs, picnic tables, tree limbs, in the grass, on dirt, on an ant hill
- the ant hill was actually an accident. I did mean to sit by the nice little mossy area and was quite comfortably reading along when a leggy little black mark wandered from the top left of the even page, worked its way down to the right, across the binding and back up to the top and over the edge. A page later, another leggy black mark tripped itself over the words. And then another. And another. Pulling my eyes away I noticed that I had hundreds of ants crawling all over me. I made quite sure that none were trapped in the book before slamming it shut, jumping up and having a major spaz -
at the library, at school, at a cafe, in a park, at the beach, in a forest, on a mountain top, on the city bus, on a Greyhound, on an airplane, on a ferry
- when I lived on Vancouver Island and regularly took ferries to visit friends I always looked forward to the ride. Ferries, as wonderful and necessary as they are when you live on an island, do constitute a bit of investment time-wise. Two, three, four hour trips were normal. After a quick look about in order to feel like I've done my duty to appreciate nature (trees on the coast, water underneath, boats passing by: check) I would crack open a book and read for hours without interruption or guilt that I should be doing something else. Because what else could I really be doing while on a ferry? (Don't answer that.) I enjoyed this time so much that, after awhile, I began to wonder if I was traveling to visit or using the excuse of a visit to travel... and read -
in a camper, in the backseat of a car, the passenger side, the driver's side (while waiting with the car off), while hitch-hiking, in dentist's and doctor's offices, at the optometrists while waiting for an appointment and waiting to get my glasses back (with the book very close to my nose), while in labour, while operating an ATV
- it's true. I have read books, many books, while driving a quad round and round an abandoned horse race track in a small town I lived in while in grade school. There were few hazards, the quad was made for children and did not go too fast, the dirt track was predictably oval and devoid of any animal life other than the occasional gopher. I was about 12 years old and I'm pretty sure I did it because it drove my mother nuts. She'd say, 'Don't read while your riding that thing! You're going to kill yourself!' If she'd of known that it was only when I was paying full attention while driving, trying to do silly tricks and take jumps with the quad, that I was in any real danger. Once again, reading kept me out of trouble -
at work, while on a treadmill, stationary bike, elliptical machine, stair master (but never managed the rowing machine), in the rain, while drunk, stoned, depressed, happy, and during commerical breaks on television.
- the ant hill was actually an accident. I did mean to sit by the nice little mossy area and was quite comfortably reading along when a leggy little black mark wandered from the top left of the even page, worked its way down to the right, across the binding and back up to the top and over the edge. A page later, another leggy black mark tripped itself over the words. And then another. And another. Pulling my eyes away I noticed that I had hundreds of ants crawling all over me. I made quite sure that none were trapped in the book before slamming it shut, jumping up and having a major spaz -
at the library, at school, at a cafe, in a park, at the beach, in a forest, on a mountain top, on the city bus, on a Greyhound, on an airplane, on a ferry
- when I lived on Vancouver Island and regularly took ferries to visit friends I always looked forward to the ride. Ferries, as wonderful and necessary as they are when you live on an island, do constitute a bit of investment time-wise. Two, three, four hour trips were normal. After a quick look about in order to feel like I've done my duty to appreciate nature (trees on the coast, water underneath, boats passing by: check) I would crack open a book and read for hours without interruption or guilt that I should be doing something else. Because what else could I really be doing while on a ferry? (Don't answer that.) I enjoyed this time so much that, after awhile, I began to wonder if I was traveling to visit or using the excuse of a visit to travel... and read -
in a camper, in the backseat of a car, the passenger side, the driver's side (while waiting with the car off), while hitch-hiking, in dentist's and doctor's offices, at the optometrists while waiting for an appointment and waiting to get my glasses back (with the book very close to my nose), while in labour, while operating an ATV
- it's true. I have read books, many books, while driving a quad round and round an abandoned horse race track in a small town I lived in while in grade school. There were few hazards, the quad was made for children and did not go too fast, the dirt track was predictably oval and devoid of any animal life other than the occasional gopher. I was about 12 years old and I'm pretty sure I did it because it drove my mother nuts. She'd say, 'Don't read while your riding that thing! You're going to kill yourself!' If she'd of known that it was only when I was paying full attention while driving, trying to do silly tricks and take jumps with the quad, that I was in any real danger. Once again, reading kept me out of trouble -
at work, while on a treadmill, stationary bike, elliptical machine, stair master (but never managed the rowing machine), in the rain, while drunk, stoned, depressed, happy, and during commerical breaks on television.
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