I can hear my Mom's footsteps downstairs as she scurries around the house like a hamster.
Yes folks I do have my pages with me and hope to resume my reading career now that my Education Ministry "sabbatical" is in full effect.
Am pleased with the 505th page since it puts me back into touch with Ennet House. I need that bit of drug and alcohol recovery perspective since this morning I am once again feeling the effects of a late night and unfettered drinking.
I went to see the Abbot's band play last night. Thankfully though I didn't close out the place as I usually do because this dutiful son had to wake up early to drive his stroke-addled Mama Vivant to a hospital in the hideous suburbs for an MRI to confirm that yes both of her carotid arteries are blocked x number of percent.
Can't wait to get old.
The photo you see captures one of the most depressing aspects of my youth: the dour white sprayed stucco ceiling. I read a lot when I was young and idealistic and wifeless and kidless and mortgageless and wanting to escape the depressing burbs. It was quite a painful paradox: I needed to read to dream of escaping those suburban sprayed stucco ceilings and yet that was the only backdrop I could ever have as I read day after day on my back. My room and that ceiling was part of my "cage".
I really should do some reading now...
I'd like to finish reading the IJ by the end of the summer.
But I'm not tied to that "goal".
I really don't want to be tied to anything this summer - except maybe the Blonde Woman.
I'd like to have a lot of long, slow orgasms this summer and not worry about having a reading "goal".
Tying myself to such a goal would perhaps make my summer painful, whereas I want it to be languid.
I don't want to create a cage for myself (after having only yesterday escaped from the Education Ministry) - like the fool who is incarcerating himself (and his unfortunate followers) inside an "Infinite Summer" reading project (Thanks for the link to that crazy-assed story, Pinot). I repeat - that guy is a fool and needs help.
THAT is no way to "read" a book or live a summer.
Come to think of it, I don't think people should read books. They should live them.
And if you're living a book, you gotta really just take it day by day, page by page, orgasm by orgasm. It's the moment that counts - not the calendar. Not a checklist. F*uck that.
Man, I'd forgotten how tiring handblogging can be. I really should be reading instead of "writing"...zzzzz....
"Summer breeze, makes me feel fine Blowing through the jasmine in my mind Summer breeze, makes me feel fine Blowing through the jasmine in my mind"
...zzzzz....
"Summer breeze, makes me feel fine Blowing through the jasmine in my mind Summer breeze, makes me feel fine Blowing through the jasmine in my mind"
...zzzzz....
"Summer breeze, makes me feel fine Blowing through the jasmine in my mind Summer breeze, makes me feel fine Blowing through the jasmine in my mind"
...zzzzz....
Forgive me, but maybe your reading is being hampered because you have the ceiling lights on all the time. You are being dazzled by the incandenza. Pages becoming dark side of the moon. Side table light needed.
ReplyDeleteBrilliant Mr. Ashdale. Absolutely brilliant. I defer to you and your people always. I rely on you in all aesthetic situations, including of course in the beautiful act of reading. You know, when at home in my nest, I do employ a side table light. (I try to be as English as possible when in my nest.) And the reading of course is much better - almost "English" - with such a lamp. But here at Pinot's nouveau riche cottage, such a light is missing. I shouldn't be ungrateful given how little I'm paying for accomodation and entertainment at Pinot's place, but isn't it like the nouveau riche to be "missing" something? I wish you were here Mr. Ashdale to further lend your culture to these noveau residents of pre-ONAN cottage country.
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