why to write and read?

and the problem of what to do with one's time, given that each day has only 24 hours.

i wished i could know better. should i write or should i read?

someone would argue that the question should instead be whether i should read and write or live.

well, lets see: i disagree. that question is quite cheesy in itself; just because living is a matter of reading and writting. or so do i see it. 

but anyway, what i am concerned here is writting and reading in its literal meaning so, i guess, i should stick to that and say that after having spent almost my whole summer reading, it does not really make much difference to me which meaning i am "meaning", if that makes any sense. i am starting to lose track.

 

so, i will have probably read more than 170 articles and lots of books. 1/3 of them could be said to be worth the while: really interesting and intellectually enriching. the rest could be divided, half  as the prescindible ones and the other half as just execrable.

so now, i wonder: why do we all spend, i could also say "waste", so much time of our lives writting and reading words that either wont ever be read or, in the worst of the cases, will and wont do anyone any good?

i guess the answer isn't easy at all, or is just too obvious: we don't care. it makes no diffrenece for us whether someone will find our words interesting or not, whether they will have any trascendence or will just be taken as pure nonsense.

we just feel the urge to communicate, to put into words whatever goes through our minds in a desperate hope that in that way some of our fragile fragments, our temporally instable and brief conscious existence will stay longer in this world, will remain sort of foreverish, will become more true (at least during the short writting time, it will, i feel).

and that is fair enough.

so... 

here i am: 

reading-writing-living-briefly staying here.

only now.