I think, therefore, I squiggle

My friend, M--, is very anal about his books, which translates to his being finicky, as well, when it comes to my books. He used to scold me about dog-earing (I know, I'm bad, but I've changed my ways--I use book marks now) and barks at me when I leave them lying on the floor, or any other surface aside from a clean one. He thinks that the only proper place for a book--except, of course, when one is reading it--is a bookshelf.

He was shocked when I, so proudly, showed him my old poetry books, which had notes on the sides of the pages. "But it's a sign that it's been read, that it's being read. And that the person reading them actually cares about comprehending them, about studying them, right? And, besides, my analytical skills are heightened when I write things down."

If he weren't enough of a "guy" guy, I'm sure he would have rolled his eyes at the logic I was trying to present. "Write them some place else, then."

Heartless. Bigot. Purist.

Today, while I was blog-hopping, I came across these:



So, it turns out, the late, great David Foster Wallace wrote notes on his books. Now, I have someone on my side.

(images via We Love You So)