I'm reading today. Reading in the sense that I am listening to a talking book. I haven't done this in weeks. The book is the 20th annual edition of "The Year's Best Science Fiction" - the year being 2002. It is an excellent book filled with very good stories. Sadly, the medium makes it only barely tolerable to me. I have "read" six stories so far and cannot tell you the gist of one of them. I can't even tell you the name of one of the stories nor even name the author. When I listen to such they don't make sufficient impression on me for me to remember them. I can enjoy them to a degree while listening but mostly it is a trial. It is so slow a process that I can barely tolerate to listen. I must do something else while I listen in order to be able to listen at all. I've tried speeding the tapes, the machine I have is designed to do so. It doesn't help. When I move it to a speed where my full concentration is required, I lose all enjoyment in listening. I mean, really, would you enjoy anything read to you by Alvin the Chipmunk? Could you take it seriously?
I am better able to read books I download from Bookshare, but I have to futz with them to get the HTML readable and even that is a slow process. I hate hate hate the fact I can't read. If I could trade an extremity to get my eyes back, I'd give the universe the appendage of it's choice. I have come to terms, in my own uncongenial way, with most of my problems, but this one remains to devil me on a regular basis. I wonder if we always lose what we value most. Had I been a pianist would I have been stricken with crippling arthritis in my hands? Would have I lost my voice had I been born Pavarotti? I wonder. It sometimes makes me believe there is a Devil, but somehow never inspires me to the corollary assumption. I am such an illogical logician.