This is highly recommended, a series where I provide a compelling argument for why you should like something that I like.

Dear Reader,

I can’t remember how I got to where I am today. I mean, I know the basic story (which I’ll save for the memoir I ABSOLUTELY refuse to write). I just can’t really remember any of the specifics. When did I start having good taste? When did I decide that I was going to pronounce pillow like pell-o? Why did I think that was ok? I can’t even remember when I decided I was going to start writing this blog. (But it’s a decision that I regret every week!)

However, there is one thing I enjoy doing (I also really enjoy mispronouncing pillow, which is probably my most appealing personality trait) that I don’t remember starting, and for good reason.

I highly recommended reading at the bar.

Why?

Conversation Blocker

Some people go to bars to meet other people. And I don’t blame them. That’s just not the way I want to live my life. Keeping my nose in a book is the literary version of always wearing headphones – it lets everyone know that you’re not there for conversation. (It’s been pointed out to me that if I truly did not want conversation, I wouldn’t be reading a book at a bar. I could read at home without running the risk of interaction with strangers. But there is a method to my madness. And no, I will not explain it.) People who open up books in public places as a way to find people willing to talk about said book at posers, and I don’t want to associate with them.

Makes Me Feel Smart

There are things I do that make me feel like a paragon of health. There are things I do that make me feel like soggy garbage. But there is nothing that makes me feel smart like reading words printed on pages. It feels like I’m using my brain for what my brain was supposed to be used for. (I guess I get paid to use my brain, but that doesn’t always feel like the most effective use of my mental energy. And if you’ve ever worked in the industry that I do, you know that what you do for the majority of your day does not make you feel smart.) Is it a little upsetting that my brain was only meant to read and understand the English language? Of course. But as much as I might try to make this blog seem like a form of therapy, it’s not. So we won’t get into that here.

Makes Me Look Smart

When you feel smart, you look smart. And when you look smart, everyone else at the bar knows that you stand for superior intelligence. As much effort as I put into looking like a bad boy, looking smart is arguably more important – while “bad boys” might have more cultural impact, they burn out quickly. I’m looking for longevity. I want to write this blog until technology reaches the point where the idea of reading a blog is more antiquated than using Facebook. (The teens have left! No new teens are coming! The network is dead!) Plus, looking smart supports my desire to be seen as a respected blogger. Everyone knows that bloggers look smarter than they type.

Only One Hand Needed

In addition to reading at the bar, I’m going to do the same thing that everybody else is doing at the bar: drink. (My preferred spot is the Applebee’s in Times Square. It serves breakfast!) Since reading a book (or magazine, glossys aren’t dead yet) only requires one hand, it’s the perfect companion activity to drinking, which also requires one hand. Would I prefer to both turn the page and take a sip with my dominant right hand? Of course. But forcing my left hand to get involved has significantly improved my overall dexterity, even with the general impairment caused by drinking.

Makes Reading More Exciting

It’s not that I struggle to get through books. In fact, I’ve been sober for the duration of many page turners, both fiction and non-fiction. (I’m not picky.) But getting a little sauced while reading just makes the whole process feel a little more engaging. Getting a little sauced makes almost anything feel a little more engaging.

There’s got to be one thing you don’t like about reading at the bar.

Not As Free As Reading At Home

As reasonably priced as the Applebee’s in Times Square can be, the bill is always much higher than when I read at home. And sometimes that discourages me from venturing out. But what’s the point of only looking smart in front of my roommates and the occasional bug that crawls out of a hole in the wall? Doesn’t seem like the best use of my time. (Neither does this blog, but that doesn’t stop me from continuing to recommend things.)

Now, just because I don’t remember every moment of the time I’ve spent reading at bars doesn’t mean I don’t remember the books that I’ve read. (It’s been a lot of George Saunders, with a Bruce Springsteen memoir or a topical periodical tossed in every now and then.) (“Topical periodical” is fun to say out loud.) And honestly, it doesn’t seem like one of those things that you really need to remember. My brain is a hard drive with limited space. Why would I want to fill up those wrinkly gigabytes with the intricacies of my time spent straining to read tiny text in spaces that have notoriously bad lighting?

I’d rather remember the things that are truly important, like the phone number for my childhood home that was disconnected over 15 years ago. What if I need to call home?

love,

nicholas