The Thinking Tired

Given my week, I am knackered. My first comfort this evening was chatting with my wife and then reading the new Oxford American on the porch. I am watching Citizen Kane because I enjoy it.

I am thinking about Dreiser, Eliot and Dickens. The happy recollection of reading Dostoevsky in New York City greeted me tonight. I also thought of first reading him, largely in Salem with my grandma. I did not read it in tandem, as I have previously noted, but it is simply in reference to a time now so foreign. I think I would have liked Angus Wilson. Perhaps I would have been the oblique.