Making Sense

Such a lovely day and i am tired. I suppose turning 36 this week has exacerbated such possibility. I also pinched my finger on a new cutter I bought myself. My reading continues albeit scattered. An absence of actual dialogue on the Vollmann has been a concern. I read 50 pages or so from the new Carlos Fuentes, I may have posted on that: actually I don't think I did - is such a misuse of actually? Lets hear it for epistolary novels. Okay - marching on, I continue to love my slow reading of the latest Amos Oz. Its wrinkled character, courtesy of an ill-fated encounter with sudden storm two weeks ago, reminds me of my stupidity. I do love this book and find it incredibly timely.

My friend Ed dropped off a book titled Overthrow today and I just read the five page introduction outside while the breezes nearly approached the chilly and the four dollar cigar was remarkable: much beter than the twelve dollar variety I treated myself to on my birthday.

I don't know what the weeknd will deliver but I am content if weary this afternoon. I suppose i should establish a goal, perhaps towards the Vollmann.