Ei qui hoc legat ~

I am hoping (aside from wanting to finish & digest Mr. Clor’s volume) to re-read Marcus Aurelius soon. I’ve only been through it once, and there was a lot there.  As always, the problem is practice, putting notions into practice, which enterprise is commonly fouled by attachments, desires – the pull of pleasure and the drag of habit.

I wish I was free to read; retired or in hospital or whatever; there’s a lot I want to browse or study.  Generally, either work or family or my own fatigue intervene, and then (pro pudore) my own indolence or hyper-susceptability to distraction take care of what little time remains.  Add to it that I’m a slow reader, a slow reader with a near-useless memory, and you can plainly see that I’m swimming upstream in regard to my reading. 

Saturday I found the Hayward Library street-corner book-sale going on.  While my Lovely Elle went to the bank and the farmer’s market, I reviewed the books, and even after thinning out and re-pruning what I was interested in, I still took away some six or seven books. 

  • Coming Out Conservative by Marvin Liebman – an anti-communist activist, Conservative fundraiser and propagandist, a buddy (more or less) of Wm. F. Buckley Jr., etc., these are his memoirs about being Gay in the heart of the straight & narrow, and coming out only late in life. 
  • The Accidental Activist by Candace Gingrich – Newt Gingrich’s cousin or somesuch, who also came out as a Lesbian after years of keeping it under wraps, her memoir.
  • Letters of Jefferson (purely pleasure reading)
  • a life of Sacajawea – for I’m woefully ignorant of the Lewis & Clarke travail – and I’ve always been interested in what her story was.
  • And —

The Upstairs Nothing intervenes – I cannot recall the other books!  They seemed important enough at the time to add to my burgeoning collection of fact, fantasy and filibustering, but damned if I can recall them. 

However, I do recall a couple of the ones I put back:

  • Alexandre Dumas, Los Tres Mosqueteros, en Español.
  • Benjamin Franklin, Autobiography and quotes from Poor Richard’s Almanac (which, actually, I may have picked up). 

Vale.

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