Literary Constipation

I'm blogging a lot today. Possibly because I'm not reading, which is quite the anomaly for me.

I've picked up several books since my HP re-read, and haven't been able to hook into any of them. It's a bit discouraging, really. And obnoxious. There is nothing worse than wanting to read, sitting down with a book, and finding yourself unable to care about anything that is going on. Perhaps I am still distraught over poor Fred.

Books I have tried (and failed) to read over the last week and a half:

- Through the Looking Glass by Lewis Carrol
- The Host by Stephanie Meyer
- Around the World in 80 Days by Jules Verne
- City of Ashes by Cassandra Clare
- My Life in France by Julia Child

My brain is feeling a bit slushy in it's disuse. Soon it will be sloshing about in my skull and running out my ears.

Enjoy that visual this lunch hour.

Au revoir.