Phases

So I haven't written anything here for months. I don't know about the rest of you, but my dirty little secret is that I have phases. Phases were I do not read. At all. I'd like to say the same about writing, but it's been so long I've written anything creative that it's less of a phase and more of a permanent stage.

Anyhow. I have phases, which embarrass me. Surely, someone as into writing and literature as myself would never grow weary of such a pleasant past-time. Well, I do. It's a combination of several different factors. One is time for obvious reasons. The other is material and stress-levels. By material I'm referring to my reading material. That is, what is available to me to read at the time and stress-levels indicate how much my real-life is preventing me from relaxing enough to sink into pretend-life. Currently, my problems are disproportionate stress-levels and inappropriate reading material.

Work is making mince-meat out of my head and what I have available to read at home is: The Divine Comedy, Paradise Lost, A sample of the notebooks of Leonardo Da vinci, Thus spake Zarathustra and Beyond Good and Evil.

Where is my light reading? I need the light reading!

Hopefully I'll make another go at activating this blog once I've gotten myself down to the library and into something less heavy. Like Terry Pratchett.