I’ve found it really hard to get back into the swing of blogging since the holidays came and went. Post-Wedding, then Thanksgiving. Christmas. Parents visit for New Years. House is a mess. My space is cluttered. My head is feeling cluttered and lethargic. There are poetry and other writing projects I’m itching to do. But all I seem to have the energy for is curling up on my couch with my Furkid, a mimosa, and a book. I’ve got about six of them going: The book of essays about Sarah Palin, Going Rouge, Pattie Boyd’s biography, Wonderful Tonight (I can’t resist co-dependent rock-star wife stories), Mastering the Art of French Cooking (to read for tips, not to make any of the recipes, are you kidding me?), The Collected poetry of Edna St. Vincent Millay, and Richard Wright’s biography.
Wright is one of my favorite writers and I’ve always wanted to explore more about his writing style, there’s so much going on there, not to mention the drama surrounding his life. There's the dramatically racial component of his life which overshadows his craft, for better or worse. I just wanted to learn what his influences were. But it's impossible to separate that out from his experiences inter-racially.
I'm tempted to cope with my lethargy by shopping. Buying a sconce wason my list of things to do. However, Cher Scholar, Robrt Pela, recently commented to beware of the sconces.
Are they flammable? Are they agents of big brother? In poor taste? Are they a portal to the netherworld. A poor investment? All of the above?
Well, lucky for me I am broke. Or at least I plan to be broke after I purchase the new Google Phone tomorrow.
Actually, my warning meant only “Careful: Once you buy one sconce, there’s no turning back.” (No Cher pun intended, of course.)
By the way, your holiday card was returned to me. You’ve given me your new address four times, but the combination of two recent computer crashes and my lentil-sized brain mean that I somehow am still using your old address. Forgive me for asking, one last time, to email me your latest address again.
By the way, I read the Cher essay in MY DIVA today. I’d forgotten all about this book, even though you’d written about it. But I’m judging a literary competition, and this book is in my category this year, so…
Happy new year,
R
Actually, my warning meant only “Careful: Once you buy one sconce, there’s no turning back.” (No Cher pun intended, of course.)
By the way, your holiday card was returned to me. You’ve given me your new address four times, but the combination of two recent computer crashes and my lentil-sized brain mean that I somehow am still using your old address. Forgive me for asking, one last time, to email me your latest address again.
By the way, I read the Cher essay in MY DIVA today. I’d forgotten all about this book, even though you’d written about it. But I’m judging a literary competition, and this book is in my category this year, so…
Happy new year,
R