I do catch myself daydreaming about seeing my magnum opus in print, but I wonder how often I would go for any of the five volumes I envisage (“The Five Plump Volumes,” March 21, 2012). The way I see it, it would be a physical pleasure only. Walking to the library, stopping by the magical bookshelf, and reaching for one of the volumes. Splendid, but what next? I would open the volume I selected, leaf through it, read a few lines, smile vaguely, close the volume shut, and return it to its place. For all practical purposes, I would go to the World Wide Web rather than the library. And the search of my website is miraculous, indeed. It rarely takes me more than a few minutes to find exactly what I am looking for, as well as all the instances where it has been mentioned. The five volumes would take hours, days, and maybe even weeks to accomplish the same goal, but the search would still be marred by uncertainty. Have I missed anything? Perish the thought. The physical pleasure of fondling the five volumes is for the birds, but daydreaming about it will most likely stay with me till my last day. Feeling the weight of each volume, smelling it, feeling the pages slide between my fingers, hearing the volume closed before it is returned to its place on the shelf… Ah, what an immense pleasure that would be! By comparison, my website is a mere bore: click, click, click… Alas, where is that publisher on a white horse?

Addendum (December 11, 2016)

Ah, silly old me! The longing for smelly books and stuffy libraries is no less than ridiculous at this day and age. And so is daydreaming about the publisher on a white horse. The physical pleasure of fondling the many plump volumes of my Residua belongs to times long past. Now that I am my own publisher, and now that my magnum opus is on the World Wide Web entire, it is high time to relish the freedom the new technology offers for next to peanuts. Besides, the physical pleasure ought to be sought elsewhere. My beloved’s fingers and toes come to mind at once…