It's my firm belief that a blogger shouldn't have to apologize for the silence, but here I am, and I'm still going to apologize. I'm pretty much so completely mentally checked out right now. It's a little ridiculous. I mean, it's not fatal: I can tell you I just read (at long last) The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao by Junot Díaz and I can tell you I liked it better than Drown, that the dude just seems happier on a looser, larger canvas, but beyond that, hell, I don't know. It's a book, right? You knew that already.

I can also point out that the Reading Gaddis blog seems to be progressing nicely. For my own part I read about six pages last night and reconfirmed my desire to read the entire book and then I set the book down, reconfirming my desire to have that reading occur later. From whenever. There's also the continuing guilt over not starting 2666 even though I think by this point literally everybody is doing it but me. But.

I am actually reading Watchmen though, which is fun, though fucking Oscar Wao, like, hello, spoiler alert, if you know what I mean. Jerk. Not enough to put me off either book but whatevs.

But beyond all that? Big dreams, big plans, little execution. Focus time minimal. Sleep, either too or not nearly enough abundant. About that long winter's nap...