Dick and Jane. Once I conquered that first book it inspired me to a life of reading. Then there came the weekly readers. That large box of stories in order of hardness. The stories were great. Striving to get through the box was my goal. Seems like I wasn't the fasted bullet out of the gun but I enjoy reading those stories. Can't remember a one. Don't think you can really call it inspiration if you can't remember what you read. But getting to the next color of stories was an inspiration. I was striving for that last color in the box. I don't even know if I got there. At that time I never knew how much I loved to read. I didn't love to read. To be honest. Reading was something I grew into. When I was twenty one my television broke. So I decided not to replace it and instead replaced it with reading. I built up quiet a little library there. My reading tastes changed.
Then I got to where I was reading five books at one time. As soon as I finished one I would replace it with another. I kept up four, five, or six books at a time. That way I would avoid post book depression. I hate when I have to step back into reality and the story is over. Like a movie that ends to suddenly. By reading multiple books at once I never had to deal with it. I could just pick up in the middle of the next few books and go.
I stopped doing that because buying books gets a little costly. So I check out one book at a time at the library and get it done before it's due back. That gives me approximately 26 books a year that I read. Except like on the one I am reading now will be a short one. Maybe a week. It's good so far but I am into half the book and I don't see where exactly the climax is going to fall. It's called "The Lost Art of Gratitude". It's a novel written by Alexander McCall Smith. Ever noticed these guys names. If you call him Al Smith it just doesn't sound literary enough does it. I read a book by Al. On the back is a picture of "Al". A sixty something old dude wearing a kilt. Which looks a lot like a girls skirt. A bit of a turn off for me but I understand he is from Scotland so it's ok I guess. I'm suppose to be a mix of Irish and Scottish. But I don't have the desire to be seen in a kilt. If I wrote a book I would have to have my picture on the back and make my name sound more literary. Maybe, "Fozzyander Mcrealdude Orangybear".
Anyway, I do have a book that has inspired me most in life. But I get the drift out there in xanga land that no one really cares. So I ramble.

Yesterday morning I woke up a little early and decided to leave early for work. I rode my bicycle. It was a beautiful morning. Perfect conditions. I could have ridden for an hour. It was one of those euphoric moments in life. The crisp clean air, leaves rustling along the side of the road, daylight at that magic moment when the light gives everything a soft refreshed look. It was as if the bicycle was moving on it's own. A flock of geese took off just in front of me and I got the V formation fly over not more than 20 feet over my head. I didn't want the moment to end.
I just had to thank somebody for that special moment. I smiled and thanked God. I was filled with joy.
Now I know that seems a little absurd to get all excited about a morning. A work morning at that. But I think I fail sometimes to enjoy life as it unfolds in front of me. I am too busy trying to beat the clock. But the clock never stops. Most days I have X amount of minutes before the alarm goes off. I have X amount of minutes before I have to have my breakfast eaten and out the door. I have X amount of minutes to get to work and have to attend to other people who seem to have even less minutes than me to get to work and would I please hurry it up. Then I get to work. I have a minute to put my stuff up, get a diet coke and get to the time clock.
Time clock. Never thought of this before but isn't that a stupid thing to say. Time clock. As if we didn't call it a time clock we wouldn't work as hard and fast. Time is ticking and we have so much to do before we have to swipe our badges at the time clock. Then there's the click. The "Time Clock" can't measure your performance in minutes. Now it's clicks. There is only 60 seconds in a minute. Man needs more units in a minute so he invented the click. That is 100 units in a minute. Faster, faster!!!! Your are burning clicks up just standing there looking like you aren't stressed. Then you only have so much time to get your stuff ready. Hurry! Now get back out the door and work. Hurry! Company is spending money like water going over Niagara Falls. Then I need to get so much done before lunch. Can I afford to take a lunch. A lunch burns 3000 clicks. That is a lot of clicks on the "Time Clock". Hurry back. You only have 500 clicks to put your work up and swipe the Time Clock.
Where has the euphoric feeling gone I had eight hours ago, when the world didn't move by a clock? Maybe it's as if we sometimes think our world is one giant time clock. No sooner do I clock off the clock then I allow myself so much time to get home. As if that giant big orange yellow thing in the sky is nothing more than a clock.
I get home. No dinner is being prepared. I ask my wife if she knows what time it is and I am hungry. I have even invented the hunger clock. Look at the clock dear! We are starving! Why not just say that you need to eat something? Not good enough. I have been trying to beat the clock and my wife doesn't even know it exists!
So I say, "let's go out and eat, it's faster." I get to my favorite hamburger place and place my order. I look at the clock on the wall. They have so much time and then I get antsy. The hamburger clock cannot be rushed. So some hamburger places cook the hamburger before you come in. They figured a way to beat the clock. Make clock watchers happy. Well no one is happy just because it only took 30 seconds to get their meal. They expect it.
Twenty four hours latter I am sitting here on the computer. The computer has a clock in the lower right hand side. It's 6:02. Day light should be popping over the horizon any moment. I think I'll turn off my inner clock and get on my bike and enjoy timelessness. I think that is what brought on the euphoric feeling. That moment in "Time" when time isn't the focal point. It is so rare that it throws us into another dimension that we forget we can go to from "time to time". By the way. I have a speedometer in my bike. It also has a clock so I don't go into that other dimension and forget to come back. It's like that time travel movie where the only thing that brings the guy back is something from the now is noticed. He picks a penney out of his pocket and is slammed back into the present and looses the love of his life in the past. Never seen it. Ok. Well my penney is that speedometer. I look down. Check my speed and milage and am slammed back into the present.
Someday I'm going to check out of the city and live in a cabin at a far off lake. I will live the rest of my life by the euphoria of never being concerned about what time it is. Daylight will beckon me into a new day and the beautiful sunset will give me the peace to relax until sleep fills me with dreams of where ever my subconscious mind desires to go. I will fill my days with a good book, exercise, and an old woman. I might even get a hobby. Clock making.

It's my day off. The weather is nice. I think I'll get on my bike and ride around the lake. But this time I am not going to talk to God. If I see him I will just raise my nose in the air and pretend he is some homeless guy trying to pinch me for a couple of dollars to support his habit. That's right. I'll give him the snooty tooty attitude.
Why. Because the consensus is on xanga that God can't talk to us anyway. We are all a bunch of hypocrites. We get offended when guys like Paul Partisan ask us if we would have sex with Jesus because we love him. Well let me just apologize all over myself for being hurt the whole day because there are people out there so blasphemous. Am I mad at this guy? Heck no! For real. I'm not lying. I'm just sad about the state of this world. Reminds me of this passage in the book full of hate and homophobia that isn't even really inspired by this nut job on a park bench. It says something to the effect in it's last book. "In those days they will put some of you in prison and kill some of you thinking they are doing this nut job a favor." Paraphrased.
I always growing up couldn't see how people in America would be so violent as to kill hypocritical pin head Christians to death. Now with the rise of hatred toward people like me, it's not so far fetched. They would love open season on Christians. But now I am talking crazy talk. We are the ones with such hatred.
As I ride my bike around the lake I cruse for atheists. I keep rocks in my pockets so I can stone them. Just kidding.
I just feel sick because this nut job on a park bench is sitting there waiting for someone who believes in him to chat little stuff with who ever and the world is running amuck.
I grow tired. I have this atheist telling me God is a sex object, go have sex with him. I have homosexuals telling me God got it wrong on the sex thing. I have Muslims telling me God can't be three dudes in one and that it's ok to kill people who don't believe their way or decide not to believe their way after joining up. I have Christians who say these other guys might just be right and to tone it down on offending them.
I don't know. I talked to God and then actually listen to him. You don't believe me. Now I am a nut job on a bike riding around a lake. But I'll tell you what he said to me. "Do the things I am doing." Right J.C. and look where it got you. You might still be the son of that guy over there on that park bench but the world isn't following you. Don't you get it J.C. Just buzz off. The world is doing fine. Just ask them. You died for a bunch of ingrates!
He said, "I died for you." My heart sank. I just can't one up this guy.
Ok J.C. I'll live and do the things you want me to. But they ain't going to like me.
He said, "They didn't like me, they won't like you. But follow me, I am Life."
So I go around the lake. Doubt I'll talk to the nut job on the park bench. I might just sit down beside him and smile. Only because I can't help myself. I kind of like this nut job.