Anyone who is reading this blog (Hi Mom) will know my very first post, which was all of three weeks ago, was an image of the immortal beauty known as Greta Garbo, who played Anna Karenina in the 1935 film based on the novel by Leo Tolstoy.
Well, that is currently still the one and only book that is hogging my time on those lonely morning train rides into the city. Much of that can be attributed to the fact that Anna Karenina is a long-ass book. I love it, but really Tolstoy?
Anyway, that, coupled with the fact that a close friend recently passed away and I haven’t really felt much inclination towards anything, I have of late experienced the nagging presence of a dark mist hanging over me- that of the unfinished book.
I don’t know about the rest of you, but when I don’t finish a book (regardless of whether it was one I was enjoying or not) I feel wildly inadequate. It’s completely irrational and that part of me not yet taken over by neurotic self-judgment sees that clear as day.
But alas, it is of no use fighting the treacherous neuroses. Hopefully, the charm and youthful beauty of Ms. Karenina will pull me back up by the boot straps and get me back on that horse. Of course by horse, I mean book. And by boot straps, I mean boot straps.
(Disclaimer: apologies in advance for the puns and whatever god awful other things may have wormed its way into this post. Coffee and little sleep is a lethal combination.)