Dear Mr. Book Man,

Please, for the love of all that is good and right in this world, stop setting up your book sale in the building I have to pass through to get to the rest of campus. I realize that this is shrewd marketing on your part, but I'm begging you to stop. You see, strange things happen to me around books. The first week I was here, I was walking into town in search of a power strip and a working alarm clock, and WH Smith sucked me in and I bought seven books all at once. (There is actually a reason why this is not as insane and irresponsible as it seemed, but I'm not going to share it here.) That same week, I went to the Free Stuff giveaway for international students in the hopes of scoring some shampoo or something, and I got two books instead. (They were free, but this is not the point.) Last week, I had my birthday, and I experienced that peculiar gravitational warp I always seem to get around large amounts of books. I got sucked into a Waterstone's and ended up with three more books (two of them were just terrible, too. I struggled along for about a hundred pages, and then, once the author had described the heroine's eyes as "flashing" for the third time on a single page, I quit in disgust and fled back to my battered copy of Fire Watch that I brought from home. "Chick Lit for the thinking woman," my ass.) And I have shamelessly used the "textbook" excuse to score four more books from the campus Blackwell's. And, just last week, I walked past your shameful display, and the gravitational warp set in again. A book on William the Conqueror leapt off your shelf and into my hands, and a banknote soared out of my bag in your direction. It was all over before I even knew what was happening, and I don't think it's quite fair.

All told, I have acquired seventeen books since I got here. I didn't mean to do that. It's perfectly fine to acquire books when I'm at home; my parents grumble a bit, but they only own four bookcases between them and leave books strewn over every vertical surface in the house, including the kitchen counter, so they don't have any real grounds for complaint. I still have room in my bookshelves. BUT THESE BOOKSHELVES ARE BACK IN NEW JERSEY. You know, that place way the heck over there? That it costs me $1 to mail postcards to? And I'm only allowed two pieces of luggage when I go back there, and the two I brought over were already nearly twice the permitted weight? Yeah. I only meant to buy textbooks if it was absolutely necessary, and to get the rest of my reading material from one of the two libraries I have finagled access to. See how well that worked out for me? And it's only been three and a half weeks. AND YOU ARE NOT HELPING.

In conclusion: stop it. Stop it immediately. Go away and take your books with you. You are not welcome here.

Love,

Antares.

PS - I realize it's been a while since I've posted here. I've had some problems with my Blogger account. I was having problems with some of my university accounts, and these obviously took precedence. So, I'm sorry for leaving you hanging, but not all that sorry. I'll try to be back more regularly.