Why do I keep doing this? I just deleted two previous attempts at blogging on this site alone. Then there were the two (or was it three) on LJ, a few on now defunct sites. (I've been using the Internet since 19idon'twanttosay.) The only ones I stuck with were work related obligations. Those were quite successful.
What do I want to do here? Write about my reading adventures. Not necessarily book reviews. I don't like writing reviews. It takes too much time away from my reading.
Not a log of what I'm reading. Goodreads is fine for that.
It's other stuff about reading. Things like:
Today I found out that it is Robinson Jeffers' birthday. So I pulled "Not Man Apart" from my little library to re-read. I haven't looked at it in years. There's always something new to discover when you re-read poetry. This was promising because the pictures would take me back to California and Big Sur. Nice, because it's snowing here in New England.
Midway through the book I came to the poem "Gray Weather" which concludes with the Lines:
In the cloudy light, in the timeless quietness,
One explores deeper than the nerves
or heart of nature, the womb or soul,
To the bone, the careless white bone, the excellence.
I stopped reading and looked out the window to the field beyond my house.
