(Segment 2)
Firstly I begin with sitting. Sitting and staring out at the paper-back bound spines that stare back out at me. Stacked and packed, ordered up into neat rows, these are the contents of my bookshelf.
How to build the internal bookshelf:
Firstly, you have to understand that the bookshelf has already been propped up against itself for quite some time. Wooden planks and screws arranged almost haphazardly.
Almost you see.
The wooden planks and screws are still holding up some of those paper-back bound spines, so it can’t be completely haphazard can it? I suppose this entire argument hinges on what I mean by haphazard, so let me try and define the word.
Haphazard : first and foremost a state of being, in other words (adj) or even (adv) I suppose. The state of ‘seeming plannedness’ with which something is observed to be existing or doing something is ultimately: low. Important: Relatives of haphazard include disorganised, and slapdash.
Any good recipe always features a definition of some sort.
Once you have been made aware that the bookshelf has already been existing for some time, propped up as it were, you can begin to appreciate and understand its nature more easily. Although haphazard is the word I use to describe my shelf, this needn’t pertain to you and your bookshelf, your pile of wooden planks and screws.
You see, even though the words might be different, you are still starting upon the correct path, the path of noticing.
Arranging the wooden planks and screws is only half the process of building a bookshelf. The second part of the process lies in recognising and interacting with what forms. At the end of the day the raw materials are going to differ in composition depending on the person that moved them around. I hope that this understanding can be placed upon your internal bookshelf. (Important: wooden planks and screws can be substituted for by any other material).
*An End-word from the author:*
People always seem to ask me, ‘Why a bookshelf?’. Seeing as though it has become somewhat of a recurrent theme, I have decided to dedicate some space at the back of this chapter to answer it – in the hopes that should you see me out in public, you will leave me the hell alone and let me enjoy my meal.
Bookshelves embody a deep personal connection for me which is linked to my childhood nostalgia. One of the first things I ever owned was a bookshelf and truly, there is no better first purchase one can make. But essentially, the idea of the ‘Bookshelf’ is random. You can just as easily substitute the bookshelf for anything from your daily life. What matters is the understanding of the object. The meat clinging to the bone of the limb: the bookshelf is necessarily lexical, intensely personal and self-driven. The lens through which you view the shelf changes the appearance of the shelf, and everyone has a different lens. You see where I am going with this? A bookshelf for me has this childhood connection, but it also exists as a beautifully negative space. The skeleton upon which I can rest my tomes