This site has been on an uplanned hiatus. It is all due to procrastinations and all. I have consistently found it difficult to finish anything I start ever since the coming of COVID. Ironically, the period of lock downs could have been the perfect time to do some good reading and writing and other productive activities, but alas, I wasted away; sleeping, watching movies, eating and all over again.

I would commence reading a book and lose interest halfway. I tried rereading Clinton’s autobiography and then chickened out, then I took up Dan Brown’s Inferno and halfway, I began to have problems with his descriptions, then I tried Malcolm Lowry’s biography and got tired of the author’s psychoanalysis. But I felt I had gotten enough gist to write a review on goodreads. Next was a translation of Niccolo Machiavelli’s The Prince, with that too I decided there would be no harm finishing later, I thought it was knowledge I wouldn’t be needing any time soon. There are many others I cannot recall. You’re probably wondering “what is wrong with this guy?”, yea, me too, “what is wrong with me?”

But I finished M C Beaton’s Death of a Dreamer, William Shakespeare’s The Two Gentlemen of Verona and Tempest (reread), I thought I was gaining momentum for more, then Hamlet conquered me.

I tried reading law books too, you know, to stay sharp and focus on the career, but, like my professors, I decided to go on a study strike.

Some how I settled to writing a story. A story about a 70 year old man who is neck deep in litigations, some sort of a litigations terrorist, more than half of which is against his biological sons. I settled for “The inside story of a 70 year old’s litigious terrorism” as title. It sounded all right at the time, so I started immediately. It was quiet easy because it wasn’t fiction, it’s a real story, but as I scribbled away, I realised how petty it was. It’s none of my business and stories like this probably belong in a seldomly read column of a dying newspaper. I quit. But, If I ever venture into writing fiction, I’d save that not so gentle old man a character in my bestseller.

Right now I am concurrently reading Simon Winchester’s “The Surgeon of Crawthorne” and Harriet Beecher Stowe’s “Uncle Toms Cabin”, I alternate between them at intervals ( does that happen to anyone? Reading two, three books at a time?) and I have made the resolution to finish both books and write a review on each. Yes! I am hardly one of those folks who know there’s something wrong with their lives but wait until New Year’s to make a resolution to fix them ( I have written about how I feel about the arbitrariness of calendars here 2018: The Syllable of time). I do know they’re important.

Apparently, there is too much of Nervous and creative energy I need to find outlets for. I don’t know how. Remember to avoid online shrinks, especially when they’re free and when they charge too.