Shiva looked at the table of old books he had once read. Now there was no hope of reading them. As he grew older and older he had acquired a disdain for books that he couldn’t fathom. He didn’t understand why he no longer had the attention span to read these books anymore. In a bookstore, he felt lost and scared. He would pick up a book, only to put it down when he realized he wouldn’t read it. He liked the idea of books rather than the actual reading of them. It's not that his imagination was too little, but it was too overwhelming. He would imagine what the books were just off the covers and lose himself in a world that was not imagined by anyone, even the writer. They say don’t judge a book by its cover, but how could he not. He had an imaginary world based on his own ideals (his own idealized world) based on the book jacket and cover of the book. He would fantasize about reading for hours. He would think about many books big and small. From fantasy to non-fiction to self help. He had known about the many benefits of books. From the ones that helped you manage your money to the ones of love and romance. The words on the page could not compare to the ones he thought about in his head. There was a mish-mash, a hodge-podge of half written books in his brain.
This wasn’t just a book thing, but a movie and TV show thing as well.He could imagine a show called the gentleman being about a hard-hitting, sophisticated, man who knew how to fight his enemies with an ease and poise that could help him succeed.When watching the show, however, he didn’t get why there was no action for half the first episode and just drama about who was getting the riches when their dad died.
In other words, he was the ultimate critique. Plugging away with his opinions, he could set someone on the right path or he could destroy them. It was funny for someone who had only read half-stories and watched half-shows, he had a great many opinions on them. He was scared to share his opinions with people for fear of disagreement or conflict. He was conflict-avoidant. He was a keyboard warrior, by the looks of it. A jobless menace who hid behind his computer.
He wrote from the heart, though. That's one thing that sets him apart from other keyboard warriors. He loved sharing his words online because that’s the only way he could get his words out there without the fear. It was freeing. It was lovely. It made him happy. He couldn’t bear to keep his words in any longer he put them out there.
He needed to finish things, though. He couldn’t say everything was bad. He could do it with meals and music, but books were another thing. None of them met the mark. He got bored halfway through. He needed action. He needed emotion. He needed romance. He needed a love of not just language but storytelling, which most authors weren’t ready to give.This might sound arrogant or overly critical, but it was true. He needed the author to not get lost in the details or make an absurd story.
He needed the author to make something captivating and beautiful just like a sandwich. It needed to have the bread which held everything together. The things inside gave it flavor. The sauce made it better and covered everything. The sauce was the writing style. The tomatoes added juiciness. The cheese made it ,in two words, ooey-gooey. The lettuce gave it a nice little crunch. The onions gave it some bitterness because everything can’t be good all the time.
