My anxiety tied to my bookshelf?

Why do I have so many books? And why are there so many that I haven’t read? What is the drive towards accumulation, as if the book if not on my shelf would cease to exist in the world. Perhaps it wouldn’t exist for me, but I could be led to it once again. These books make me anxious. It’s like being stared at by a crowded room of people who I assume are smarter than me. Do I really need to deal with that? Are they here for other people to see? Are they simply here to tempt me? Maybe it is simply a lesson that I teach myself everyday, forcing myself to confront those texts that I have read peppered with those that I’ve never touched. What do they do for me? Do I need to read them?

November 4. This is where the shit begins. It will be epic.

I only say this so that it might become true. It will be epic. I'll say it again. Epic.

Just wait. In four months, you'll look back on this first post, and you'll say to yourself, "My god, he was right. How fucking prophetic!" Yeah, and don't forget prolific. The shit is blowing up!

A lesson in making necessary the contingent: Do it, then, do it again, keep doing it, then, check yourself! then do it more, then keep doing it. etc.