I have no business picking up any new books at all; therefore, I have managed to only collect about fourteen or sixteen new ones over the last three months. I am a sick man. I know I have a problem, but it's a compulsion. Like the typing and the scribbling, sometimes I have to go get some books and add them to the ones I have. Have to.
I got Lattimore's translation of The Odyssey, Oxford's Author's collection of Jonathan Swift, and a little book of Robert Bly's poems. That was actually yesterday. A lot of stuff happened today, but I don't feel like writing about it. Or anything else, 'cause I'm beat! Peace.
--JL
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