What is wrong with me? I am incapable of reading novels this summer. All I want to read is poetry written by my friends and back issues of The New Yorker. At night I stay up late catching up on Gossip Girl and True Blood. Should I or should I not feel bad about this?
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I’m determined to find Gossip Girl, Season One on YouTube. In the meantime, I’m watching The Bachelorette.
I endorse Joy Williams for satisfying summer reading. Or biographies. I’m reading Digressions on Some Poems by Frank O’Hara by Joe LeSueur.
Thanks for the tips! I trust in all things Hoag.
that happens to me in the summer, too. at the start, i have all this pent-up excitement to do/read/make all sorts of things, but then i end up concentrating energy on only one or two primary activities.
p.s. oh dear, i’m sure this is a typo thing, buuut could you change ‘anna’ to ‘anne’ on my blog link?
oh goodness, SUCH a typo. will correct that asap.
thank you for the reassurance. i’m hoping to wade into some short stories soon! and perhaps start a new knitting project, fingers crossed.
xo