OK, so let's start afresh. Thought of the Day doesn't work. Continued work on Why I am no Longer a Buddhist doesn't seem particularly fruitful. I will blog only when I have enough time and will try to be somewhat literary.
I really do write for the printed page. I don't think it's possible to read something really reflective on the computer. I feel like my neck is frozen into place, or something. You can't look up, put your finger in the book, and think. You have no sense of reading something in a place. D. Keith Mano once related how he not only could recall especially moving or eloquent passages, but the exact physical circumstances in which he first read them. I love reading outdoors, on the deck, or in the garden. Here's some stuff from my old Upsouth days:
Last weekend I noted the energetic music of the purple finches. Before that, the swifts had made their reappearance high above, tirelessly scouring the dome of sunlit sky free of insects. The catbird, always heard before he's seen, shyly sounds his sweet and dreamy song from amidst the wild bushy places. The clematis and the climbing rose are in abundant blossom, and now that the nights as well as days are warm enough, we've hauled the heavy lawn chairs out for sitting. My summer study's furnished and ready, how about yours?
Haven't had much luck reading on the beach, however. The multitudinous sensory experiences are too compelling, at least at first. Anne Morrow Lindbergh in Gift from the Sea says the same thing. A magazine or two, maybe, but War and Peace will always be for fireside.