A topic ramble, a meditation, or a whatchamacallit, and a thank-you

Well, here it is, another day after days of not doing a post, and I know I’m long ovedue for one, but to confess up front, I’m reading about seven books all at once, and have nothing to show for it yet.  When you once convince yourself that the best way to read a book is to read a plethora of them at a time, your soul (or at least your time before the online library sites recall the books) is not your own!  Added to that is the fact that I’m not only reading books I want to read, but also some books I “should” read, and you may understand my dragging feet attitude and my slow and sorrowful apologia.  So here it is, a topic ramble, or a meditation, or a whatchamacallit, and a sincere and earnest “thank-you” to all my readers for sticking with me and checking in when it seems I might be getting ready to croak something else out.

When I first signed onto the library sites (two of them), I was like a kid in a candy store, to make the much overworked simile do service here too; I kept clicking on books I had no hope of reading in two weeks’ time with all the others I had selected, and at first, I was totally enchanted with the little descriptor at the bottom of the page which told me just how much (percentage-wise) I’d read of the book, and how many pages there were in the chapter.  But now, I’m just longing for a traditional page-count to tell me how many more pages I have to suffer through in order to finish (yes! for a confirmed reader to say that of numerous books is shocking, I know).  But it’s spring-time, finally, and I want to go outside and wander and go out for coffee with people and enjoy the sun and the air.  Even more than that, I want to work on my stubborn novel which is refusing to be written.  I’ve got around 100 pages done, but for some reason, it simply will not be written the way the others were:  it balks regularly, only lets me write about a sentence a day sometimes or do a bit of timid revising, and in general will not show me the next turn around the bend.

Now, I know that I promised a sort of meditation, and so far this has sounded like a whinging complaint of the kind I occasionally write, so perhaps I should tell you that I have developed the complaint into an art form (in case you didn’t think so at first sight), and can (even if not achieving the greatest quality in my complaints) go on for quite some time lengthwise with my kvetching and yammering.  Surely someone somewhere gives out an award for how long a person can complain, even if it’s assessed as a sort of performance art in a gallery, where people gather to listen to the neverending (or so it seems) spiel and spate of words.  Only, of course, writing a post has the advantage that I don’t have to bestir myself from my easy chair or stand or sit in an uncomfortable gallery position so that people can stare at me properly without impeding each other’s sight lines.  And here I can refuel with coffee and food, and really derive the additional advantage that I don’t have to see the possibly disgusted faces staring back at me or hear (audibly at least; imagination is another thing) “Oh, c’mon!  Get off your duff and do something already!  At least try to write or think productively about something you’ve read.  Go for that much-vaunted walk and clear your head and then come back and be an extrovert compositionally instead of a bitching introvert who mumbles constantly under her breath about all the ills of life!”  So far, however, none of my sermons to myself have worked, so I have to offer my readers a heartfelt apology (and after all, the word “apologia” is related to the word “apology”) and try to go on from here.

As to the “thank-you,” I have had much better fortune than I deserve in my followers, who have been generous in their comments and in continuing to read.  And now, on the issue of having trouble communicating, I can do no better than to quote the famous musical funnyman and satirist Tom Lehrer (in paraphrase at least):  “We hear lots these days about people who can’t communicate.  Husbands and wives who can’t communicate, children who can’t communicate with their parents.  I feel that if a person can’t communicate, the very least he can do is to shut up!”  Couldn’t have said it better myself!