strange weather has arrived, the sun is blotted out by dark clouds and the heat is sucked out of my bones. i have a day off, i have nothing to do, no where to go, i've been talking to myself for hours, pacing up and down the library and opening and closing the fridge, symptoms of a hp lovecraft disposition. what slithering nefarious horror awaits outside my door, some abomination from the stygian underworld. oh no, it's just the postman delivering a parcel of amazonian books. 
i place the package down upon my table and collect the scissors from the kitchen, the package is proving difficult. even with scissors. 
inverse echo's of john cale opening his gift as i slow down and remind myself to take care and be patient. ah yes, i find a seam and draw the sharp blade along it, revealing a pile of books i must have ordered a while back. (i often order books and forget i ordered them which makes their arrival a pleasant surprise) 
i pull them out one by one.
norman mailer's 'castle in the forest'
kornher- stace nicole's  'archivist wasp'
and
kevin kelly's 'what technology wants.'
so much reading to do as the pile of unread books grows and grows. i need to hire a librarian who can catalogue and arrange the system, mission control is pushing it's tardis like qualities to the limits, books are bulging out everywhere, spilling out from under the floorboards, cupboards and draws, the walls are fully lined and under the rugs lay volumes of ancient science fiction from the golden age. i walk upon robert hienlen, asimov and step over ee doc smith. when i brush my teeth i stand upon micheal moorcock, edmund cooper and john brunner's 'stand on zanzibar' ironically.
i need sympathetic assistance asap. 
maybe i'll build myself a very long book case today.