rivervox

The weather continues heavy, inside and out. I drove out to Orleans this morning to pick up groceries and bagels. This whole thing feels like a top hat on a naked man. New year, same shit. Surface Pressure. COVID rates in Boston are spiking higher than ever, but oh yes let's all go back to normal.

I'm listening to Joan Didion's A Year of Magical Thinking, which is really wonderful. I'm not sure I could have read it before and it's extraordinary that she wrote it while in the year of mourning. I can't believe her daughter died the next year. This will be my last book completed. I'm in the middle of a Gamache, but I don't want to rush it as I've almost caught up. The new Stephenson book will have to wait for better days.

The Didion book is a portrait of their marriage. It reminds me a bit of Imy and Rod. Same period, same cocktail parties, same deep connection. I would like to work toward that kind of relationship this year.

Setting new reading goals for 2022. I read 80 books this year. My goal was 60. I read 11 books or 13% by Black writers. 14% male writers. Hard to know what to pledge. I read 80 in 2020 too. If it's another plague year, it will be 80 again. Maybe I will split the difference and opt for 70 books. 20% by black authors, which is 14 books. No interest in raising the male quota.

Last night we watched an Expanse and Landscapers. Watching Who and Only Murders with kids. It's a Shabbat NYE which means we won't watch Duck Soup tonight and we're far from home, so no Pho. But we will play games and eat food. I swear that we will light up the damn firepit. Try to find some joy.