Sunday, January 08, 2006

I call myself a poet

Really, what the hell's wrong with me? I have entire collections of delectible poems, anthologies, philosophical triumphant dissertations... at my fingertips, merely inches away as I type this--and I can't read them in full. When I've decided it's "reading time", I grab not one, but several juicy bound collected's and scatter them excitedly on my bed, shuffle into choosing position, pawn over each one lovingly, then 1) can't decide which one to gouge myself on 2) get distracted with entirely unrelated thoughts 3) get so wrapped up in my not being able to concentrate on such magnificent stuff that I plain give up 4) go to sleep, or, grab a drink, or, go to sleep with a drink in my hand.

Anyone else have this problem (the reading, not the drinking)? At this rate I'll be lucky if I fully absorb a book a year.

Oh, and I've updated my links list. Stay tuned, next week maybe a review of Shift & Switch in the Ottawa XPress, if I'm lucky. Hope so, I'm terribly broke.

4 Comments:

Anonymous Olga said...

hey Wanda, just wanted to drop you a line... might be coming to MTL sometime in the near future
Olga

9:27 AM  
Blogger MissWanda said...

yay! I sure miss you sweetie. Thought of you just the other day.

Olga, your paintings are just beautiful.

Can't wait to see you hon.

10:52 AM  
Anonymous terry said...

All the time, just with physics books. Too much good stuff to decide on one.

6:12 PM  
Blogger MissWanda said...

I'm just crazy about physics. I wish someone would explain all the little fists of figures to me.

Math is fun too. I have the same problem. Why is it, for instance, that proofs employ logic but can also be considered as applications of informal logic? Makes me think math=poetry.

Wait, of course it does.

10:46 PM  

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