I am reading Edith Wharton’s The Reef . I then realised that there is not much time left to read. There are millions of books out there that I will never have read. Sigh. Attempted to start a book club. Failed. Alright, semi-failed: we started it but never finished. I have decided to read the classics. So far, I have read Lew Wallace’s Ben Hur and currently half-way through Cervantes’ Don Quixote. I tried to read Tolstoy’s War and Peace. Twice. Failed. And that is the translated version. I really should make a list of books to read for next year. It is just a few weeks away. I need to make a lot of lists. I like lists. Books to read. Presents to buy for Christmas. Languages to learn. Business plans to write. Stuff to do before I die. Acquire new skills. Change the freaking world. Lord! This sounds suspiciously like a new year’s resolution. Which reminds me of Angela Chase (played by the strangely depressed but still hot Claire Danes) from My So-Called Life who wrote in her diary: “This new year I shall resolve to be… (tapping a pencil on her mouth and continuing) … less introspective.” Maybe I should do that.
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