Like a nicotine addict (I'd imagine) who has finally become disgusted with the sight of all those discarded cigarette butts littering her back yard, I've come to realise that I have to do something about my magazine addiction.
It was a luxury, after years of being a non-earner, to be able to buy whatever magazines I wanted. At first I was devouring magazines about writing, but since I went back to work my creative energy seems to have gurgled down the toilet and the only writing I do is on this blog. So naturally, I turned to fashion and "women's" magazines. They were fun; I was interested in the clothes, and the odd photographs of haggard, makeup-less celebrities were just harmless mind candy.
But rot is setting in. Last week I bought an Australian gossip magazine called Grazia. There was nothing in it other than glossy photos of celebrities copying each other's styles. My starving brain cells are revolting against their junk food diet. It's time to take action.
My name is Violet and I'm a self-infflicted dumb-dumb. Can anyone recommend a good book of modern philosophy?