There used be be a time, in the not-too-distant past, when I eschewed my traditional stack of books and couldn't focus enough to finish even one, if I were so inclined. I spent most of my energy on short-attention-span tasks that required less patience for a quicker payoff: obsessive seeking and acquiring of new music, web surfing ad nauseum, blogging to post the output and thoughts of the aforementioned web surfing.
These days, I'm feeling weary. I flip impatiently through the shuffle on the iPod. The Motown sounds too earnest and heartbreaking, the Stooges too harsh, the country too twangy. I recently sat down to do a great purging of music that was currently annoying me, and by the end of process, I realized doing so would whittle the store down to half. And following the campaign ins and outs, the Iraq updates, the congressional hearings requires a processing ability I don't care to muster.
So, I got a giant stack of novels, with a heavy emphasis on psychological thrillers. I've got some fascinating clothing-history books. I'm thinking of new patterns. I might take a class in cooking, sewing, or something else. I've got the journal back out, and I'm revisiting writing of various types, possibly of some really bad poetry.
All of which is to say, I think I'm going on sabbatical into the nondigital world. Possibly when I have something interesting to say or show la vida Laura (finished woodwork, say, or, another bird--alive or dead--in the basement), I'll bestow it on the five of you.