Bookish
Internet, I poke you with a stick.
I woke up feeling a bit poorly this morning with a sore throat I've had since yesterday, but it seems to have been either a temporary condition or staved off by honey-berry sugar free cough drops. Go team preventative medicine?
Stacy Schiff's biography of Antoine de Saint-Exupéry practically flew off the shelf and into my grubby hands at Half Price Books yesterday. A man gave me a look as I stood by the shelf scanning the author and the subject when a sudden sledgehammer of comprehension forced out of my mouth the exclamation "Sold!" I really loved her book on Véra Nabokov, I doted upon Le Petit Prince but haven't read much about Saint-Exupéry except about his death, and hope for great things from this bio. Schiff is writing a book on Cleopatra that's due to come out sometime next year; I will keep my eye out for it if I enjoy this book. If I ever get through the thing.
Tidied up my bedside table last night, a space recently converted from a small Target table to a slightly less small IKEA two-drawer assembly, and threw into it a stack of 10+ books that I've started to read over the last year and piled atop one another, most of them still with makeshift bookmarks poking out at their top edges marking 20 or 100 pages read. Time will tell whether I will forget to read them forever as they languish in the dark drawer or whether the chances of my finishing any of them are improved now that they are liberated, no longer functioning as irregular pedestals for my bedside lamp and alarm clock.
Look at me, pretending I still read. ^_^ Next thing you know, I'll try my hand at writing again. I almost picked up an anthology of modern sonnets at the bookstore (in my quest to read more that could inspire), but figured I'd spent enough money for one day. I'm going to search for such things after I get a library card this week (my Dallas library card is no longer in effect since I'm no longer a resident of that city, and I've neglected to get one for my new city in the almost-a-year that I've lived here).
I woke up feeling a bit poorly this morning with a sore throat I've had since yesterday, but it seems to have been either a temporary condition or staved off by honey-berry sugar free cough drops. Go team preventative medicine?
Stacy Schiff's biography of Antoine de Saint-Exupéry practically flew off the shelf and into my grubby hands at Half Price Books yesterday. A man gave me a look as I stood by the shelf scanning the author and the subject when a sudden sledgehammer of comprehension forced out of my mouth the exclamation "Sold!" I really loved her book on Véra Nabokov, I doted upon Le Petit Prince but haven't read much about Saint-Exupéry except about his death, and hope for great things from this bio. Schiff is writing a book on Cleopatra that's due to come out sometime next year; I will keep my eye out for it if I enjoy this book. If I ever get through the thing.
Tidied up my bedside table last night, a space recently converted from a small Target table to a slightly less small IKEA two-drawer assembly, and threw into it a stack of 10+ books that I've started to read over the last year and piled atop one another, most of them still with makeshift bookmarks poking out at their top edges marking 20 or 100 pages read. Time will tell whether I will forget to read them forever as they languish in the dark drawer or whether the chances of my finishing any of them are improved now that they are liberated, no longer functioning as irregular pedestals for my bedside lamp and alarm clock.
Look at me, pretending I still read. ^_^ Next thing you know, I'll try my hand at writing again. I almost picked up an anthology of modern sonnets at the bookstore (in my quest to read more that could inspire), but figured I'd spent enough money for one day. I'm going to search for such things after I get a library card this week (my Dallas library card is no longer in effect since I'm no longer a resident of that city, and I've neglected to get one for my new city in the almost-a-year that I've lived here).