What Would Mark Twain Do?

For some reason, I think Mr. Mark Twain might have an opinion on my new hobby. Actually, its the same hobby I've had for a while- just in a new format.

I'm reading Kafka's The Metamorphasis through my email. Yes Ladies and Gentlemen, I am reading a book online. When Stephen King announced he would publish his next book over the internet- and not in paperback first, I was not impressed.

When all those ibooks and palm-piloty things came out so you could read a book on a small screen the size of a hardcover novel, I turned up my nose as if they were green eggs and ham.

Then I realized just how much space books take up in my 10x11 room. How heavy they can get sometimes. Not to mention, the scarcity of cheap copies of the classics. So, without alerting any of my "friends who read" * I contemplated actually checking into this online reading.

*Friends who read: those individuals with whom I trust their advice on a novel suggestion and who will return a book lent them within a reasonable amount of time in the condition I lent said book.

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A couple of weeks later, I happened to be actually reading the writing magazines I pick up at the store and came across an article for http://www.dailylit.com/. Novels, Non-Fiction- you name it- the couple that started it has broken stories into readable sections that they will email you daily, or three times a week at the time you specify. It's in good chunks- not in the middle of a sentence or thought. Some stories- like the Kafka one I'm reading- are free to subscribe. Others cost up to $6.

It takes me about 5 mintues to read the email every day. Bad news is, I've gotten into the story and want more- but I can't figure out how to get more delivered.

I still can't imagine only reading books this way. There is something to this- but you have to be pretty adept at picking up where you left off- and multitasking. Kind of like only reading three pages on the subway. (Hard for some) I'll let you know how it goes. Both Kafka and the website.

NOTE: dailylit.com turned out to be not too shabby. I figured out how to get more installations- which means I get through the stories faster. Kafka is proving harder to read than I expected. Somehow, I don't think the literal meanings are working. Salesmen aren't cockroaches.

Why the Homeless Need A Shower.

There are many things I take for granted.Examples: my lungs, the ability to ask my parents for advice, air conditioning, FL sunshine and showers.

Let me explain.

When you have no where that's your own and you are constantly in other's space it's necessary to be as small as possible. Take up as little room. The fear is one day you will wake up and their patience will have sailed away with Winken, Blinken and Nod. You will be out on your own. Maybe you are lucky enough to have a job. So you work 9 to 5 and then spend a couple of hours a night searching for an apartment. Realizing that with each day's search- your ability to cover 1st, last and deposit is dwindling. Maybe you feel you can't even make yourself breakfast (nevermind pack a lunch) where you are staying. Thus, you spend $$ you need on food you can't afford.

There are anxieties and stresses that cannot be adequately expressed in words over being homeless. Even now, 7 months later, I cannot write those feelings without believing they miss the point. The only thing I can expound on from my 8 weeks of homelessness is the one place I found absolute solace.

A shower.

Its the one place nothing is expected of you. That 2x5 space is yours for those 15 minutes. You owe no one. Thinking only of Lather, Rinse, Repeat- you do not need to plan out how to make as little noise as possible when waking up. No one cares if you are vegetarian, do your dishes or plan to keep the common space clean. Craigslist doesn't exist. It doesn't matter if its 25* outside or 125* outside. For those few precious moments, you are beholden to nothing. No one is above you on the social ladder and no one is below you.

Its somewhere you can control every piece of your atmosphere. Maybe you'll dim the lights. Maybe you'll wash your hair last instead of first. Maybe you will keep your socks on. For the homeless (or rentless, as I was) your liberty is not your control. You are at the mercy of those that take you in. But in the shower, you can reclaim your voice.

NO! I will NOT wash my hair today.

Decisions, however small, are decisions none the less. Its hard to explain to anyone who's never experienced the sort of helplessness that comes with relying on others for housing. But, when I get the chance to sit and talk with the ladies and gentlemen I encounter in soup kitchens- I can understand the small haven ensconced within a shower.

It really is the little things.

No Wonder We All Have ADHD.

Randomly, in this high-powered position I hold... it is imperitive for me to have constant updates on whether or not the National Service Learning foundations are suddenly freeing up nonexistent government funds for non-profits.

Thus, I must get a RSS feed.

Have you ever heard of this? I like to think I'm tech savvy. I ROFL when my BFFs send me jokes. (Thanks to a NYT article, I've updated my list) Plus, the kids that come on our programs keep me up to date on "coolness" factors: ie- "She's so uncool....she's still got a landline."

But, seriously, a ticker at the bottom of my screen telling me every hour that the NSLC has NOT infact received money to fund more service learning programs in the Tri-State area?

I figured it would be a simple little button in the bottom of my screen that would pop up when the site downloaded. No problemo. So I try to download this RSS program. Three sites later, I finally get the program downloaded. Yes, ENTIRE PROGRAM.

It's Outlook for the ADHD web addict. In two seconds (faster than my own outlook can receive a message) I have 1034 breaking news stories, 765 updated pages and this ticker is telling me about local news for a small town outside of Mumbai.

Is this what the world is coming to? I just want to know when the government will release funds for my non-profit. When Counting Crows will play in NYC. When Broadway tickets are free.

I don't need to know that liver disease is preventable in rats with artificial human liver particles.

So, in the midst of doing the daily grind, I am fighting with this stupid program with pop-ups and tickers and flashing alerts telling me about tooth loss predicting faster aging and children in Scotland finding a woman's head. (Oddly, they continue to mention that the kids were playing soccer...in Scotland, this would be futbol.)

So my mind is on futbol heads, rats and the length of my life in relation to the teeth that might fall out due to my lack of dental insurance INSTEAD on whether or not the government will free up money for my non-profit.

I thought this feed was designed to help my day. Not throw me into this informed tangent of life where I want to update my monster.com profile to reflect possible dental needs. In the week of my finals during two semesters of college (seperate times, same computer issues) I was without internet. Thus receiving spectacular grades because I did not spend 2 hours a night checking my myspace, facebook and livejournal. Nor did I need to see what Britney Spears was up to. After this, I decided that Sundays were forever going to be no cell phone days. Try contacting me on a Sunday. You think its tough to get me on Tuesday? Sunday will be nigh impossible. All because cutting yourself off from instant access tends to produce greater results. And more sanity.

So, as I sit on the subway next to the guy with his Blackberry heading to his hipster pad where we all have internet and myspace pages for buildings like McKibben Lofts, I wonder, how does a writer get away from it all- when so much fodder lies within the thick of it?