Well, this is the last day of my Big Month of Posting. I'm wondering what will become of this place. I'm so much more reliable with a hard and fast deadline holding me in place. "Twice a week," which has been my posting goal in the past, has never been solid enough. And "as often as I have something to say," is vague enough that my innate inertia and lethargy will beat it out every time.
I hope I can keep posting. I'd like to feel like I'm able to accomplish something, to follow through, at this time when so many things in my life look messy and unaccomplished.
So let's see if I can recreate the past 30 days of reading from memory. I finished The Name of the Rose, and read The Rag and Bone Shop and Dorp Dead, both of which were borrowed from the school library. I read and returned to the library The Full Cupboard of Life, A Gift Upon the Shore, and Joan: The Mysterious Life of the Heretic Who Became a Saint. Oh, and Angels and Demons, let's not forget that one. That was a doozie.
There were others, weren't there? Oh, The Position, that was not bad at all. And The Game, which was....less not bad, though still not actually bad.
That's nine. I think that might be all. I think it says something unhealthy about me that I'm tempted to stay up all night to finish Disco for the Departed (which is excellent, by the way), just so I can say I read ten books this month. And I'm proud of that impulse, which I think says something disturbing.
I won't say any of the other things I'm thinking about, on the hope that I remember to write them tomorrow. I'll continue in this artificial vein of conclusion by saying thanks for listening. And maybe I'll keep trying to blog all the time. Let me know what you think.