Everytime you read a book, an angel gets LASIK.

There are authors I've stumbled upon that I can't imagine life without. I pick a book at random, and then I won't rest until I've digested their entire back catalogue.

Unless it's too good. There are authors whose works are so good, that speak to me so strongly, that it hurts to finish their books. So I procrastinate. I read lesser authors instead. I wash the dishes. I do whatever I have to do in order to prolong the moment of book limbo. I spend a lot of time thinking about the author, but never bringing myself back into their world. I know they'll break my heart with words; it's a self-defense mechanism.

Currently, one author falls into this category: Harlan Ellison. Also, one television series: Farscape.

I know I'm cheating myself out of better moments by doing this. And I will finish each respectively, eventually. But for now I hold it all close and gather the pieces slowly. Soon I'll be ready to binge and purge and get it (mostly) out of my system. But between the now and the then I choose to savor instead, roll it around my mouth, identify, and spit.

Rarities like this, they deserve to be treasured.