It seems like there's always something so exciting about Fall. Things get stirred up a bit, somehow, and everything's all afluster, and the weather's changing (unless you live in San Francisco), and the holidays are coming, and for whatever reason, there's all this newness (for me: new roommate, new school year, new football season!). I think someone rustled up the cosmos or something.
All these happenings have left me so far behind on all my to-do lists . . . especially my oh-so-daunting to-read list. Whatever happened to reading? Here's what I'm working with, book-wise:
I bought this last week at Green Apple Books and it's my new favorite anthology
my friend Matt lent me this book by his favorite author, who happens to be a Georgian
Memoir by Kenneth Hartman, who is serving life without the possibility of parole
Plus several more novels, a guidebook on curriculum development, countless books of poetry and literary magazines, a host of teaching books, and a friend's manuscript. The only solution, I think, is to take a week off work, turn off my phone, and hole up in my apartment for two weeks until I get through it all.
And then, of course, there's writing. I'm working on a new series of poems based on criminal offenses (sort of) . . . too many things swarming my brain right now.
Hope everyone's Monday is off to a harmless start. I think I'm ready for Large Coffee #2.
p.s. It's true, Baby Harper Seven Beckham is all kinds of precious.