I have to jot these down somewhere:
Starting Out in the Evening -- Brian Morton
The Man Who Loved Children -- Christina Stead
It feels like I'm reading ever so slowly right now. I'm fighting against laziness, against dispiritedness. Lying in bed this morning, my day off, all sorts of juicy ideas and plans formed themselves in my head. For my papers, the blog. Then the reality of the day. Writing pains. Evasions and flagellations.
Yet, I've resolved to struggle with myself until my mind is bloody and sore. I'm writing about the religious performances of medieval monks, so it's all part of the mood.
Yet, I've resolved to struggle with myself until my mind is bloody and sore. I'm writing about the religious performances of medieval monks, so it's all part of the mood.
I think it's about time for a long post on puppets.
And another episode of Deadwood.
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