Book Report: The Thief
In Which Your Humble Blogger is halfway through the year, and eighteen books behind. Well, eighteen after I hit that blue save button.
Not only uninterested, but actively avoiding interest
In Which Your Humble Blogger goes off on something, yah yah yah, probably not important, let’s just wait a bit and then change the subject.
Book Report: The Dresser
In Which Your Humble Blogger wept the first time through, and the second time through cried, not just the streaming tears that I usually weep but great wracking sobs, like I have not cried since the last time I was in the presence of Death.
Pirke Avot chapter four, verse fifteen
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In Which Your Humble Blogger has probably made several typos, which is not in strict accordance with the Lex Hartmania, but in keeping with the spirit of it.
Juneteenth, 2010
In Which Your Humble Blogger could have probably amused himself by writing the thing last week and setting it up to post later, you know, as a reference for only my eyes, but then part of the point is that I never gave it a thought until somebody posted something this morning.
Book Report: Something Wicked This Way Comes
In Which Your Humble Blogger can’t read the same book again, not a score and seven years afterward, but then perhaps neither could Jim Nightshade, if it came to that.
Book Report: The King Must Die
In Which Your Humble Blogger can’t go home again, at least not without painting the sails.
Provincialism’s nondescript head
In Which Your Humble Blogger has one summer sport and half a winter sport, and one sport that is pretty much year-round, playing summer in each hemisphere, and that’s plenty for me. But hey, knock yourselves out, world! One Hundred Million Frenchmen can’t be wrong!
Two words: Referen. Dum.
In Which Your Humble Blogger gripes about The Way We Do Things in This Town.
Book Report: A Civil Campaign
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In Which Your Humble Blogger keeps going with the reading, and with the logging of the reading, getting further and further behind…