Not so Harry, Harry

Knock me senseless. I’ve run out of ideas. I’m as dry as the desert that I may have to blog about how I brush my teeth pretty soon.

Oh, I could perhaps describe the raging battle I have with myself, keeping my grubby little hands off the latest Harry Potter book. I try not to think about it, you know, like a heroin addict trying to ignore the shivering call of an ‘angry fix’. Some days I’m winning, some days I’m rationalizing. It’s a seesaw battle. There’s no clear winner yet, but whatever the outcome, I’m still the definite loser.

Two weeks ago, I stubled upon a .pdf document in our network & it says that it’s the 7th Potter book. At the expense of more pressing work, I blatantly read the document every chance I get. After a couple of pages, I knew it wasn’t the real thing; too much snogging. Plus there that S word- shagging, not shit. I don’t know about the real book but that word seems inappropriate for a decidedly children’s book. But I decided to go ahead and finish it anyway because of, well, too much snogging.

The author of that pseudo-Potter book has, without a doubt, a lot of time on his hands (like some folks I know). I mean, why would you do that? Write a version of a book that you know won’t fetch you any money. There’s always notoriety, but the author didn’t include his name on the document, which may be just as well as he’s taken to repeating phrases without even trying to set them as far apart as possible. Perhaps he didn’t give a shit. He’s not getting paid anyway.

Moving on, in that version, Harry actually said good night to Ginny and then good morning too. Yep, they slept together, yep, they shagged. It would have been more interesting if certain, rather, intimate details were described like how Harry’s quivering member ____ . Oh, you fill in the blanks.

I actually enjoyed reading it and instead of dampening my appetite for the original, it only served to whet my hunger for it.

This is a big conspiracy. Ok so publishing houses need to earn money so they first produce hardbound books that costs more for the buyers. While I can possibly find or scrape together a few crumpled bills to buy me one, I’m trying hard not to. I’d rather wait for the less expensive paperback edition. For a guy who must have failed the marshmallow test countless times, this is pure torture. Seeing those little brats bring along daddy to buy their Potter for them was like adding insult to injury. I wish I could bring my dad along so he could buy me one, but that would be silly—I’m sure Dad would rather spend his money on shit (manure for his organic farm).

Shit. Wake me up when those inexpensive paperbacks are on sale. Before that, here’s hoping that I won’t overhear two snotty kids arguing over the meatier details of the Deathly Hallows.

I hate not being able to buy everything, dammit.

ooOoo

I got another Harry Potter softcopy last Wednesday, and this time, I think it’s the real McCoy. Thank God I mastered my urge to buy that expensive book.

I can understand JK Rowling’s feeling of devastation after finishing the last installment of the Harry Potter series. Even I, after reading Deathly Hallows yesterday, carried with me a little bubble of sadness all day. It’s unbelievable that I won’t be reading anymore of his adventures.

I need a hug.