It occurs to me that even if I did nothing but read books in my spare time during our mass confinement I probably have a 0% chance max of reading all the books I already own. This is partly because I read so slowly and partly because of the quantity of books. I feel a little funny about this but mostly fine. A personal library is a lot of things but a timed project I think it is not.
I am mulling over trying to go through the various “learn to draw” and “learn to bind books” and “here’s how to calligraphy” and “acrylics—voila” books I have though. Those artistic skills I wish I had but never work on because they take a long time to master. Perhaps this is a good moment to give those a try methodically and see if indeed I do wish to bind books or if I’d rather continue not doing so indefinitely. I already have a lot of creative pursuits and I sort of suspect that if I’m not doing a thing it’s because that thing isn’t really for me, but now I could see. Am I a secret bookbinder in waiting? Now I could find out…
No writing or art again today! Still relaxing into this new indoor lifestyle. Thinking about this idea with some leaves and an ikea ribba shadowbox frame and ink and felt pens though. Doing so while wrapped in two fleecy blankets with no intention of moving enough to let any limb get cold. Watching Dylan Moran. I feel validated by him about the whole fleecy blanket situation.