The Lonesome Traveller, by Jack Kerouac.

Oliver's first time in the aviary.

Today it was warm enough to put the budgies in the aviary, which I'd been looking forward to. Now, they're asleep on the window, and have been for a few hours (they fell asleep within minutes of being brought inside), and all I can hear is the whir of the computer fans. I've been reading most of the afternoon: The Lonesome Traveller by Jack Kerouac. I'm nearly finished it, and as ever I'm in awe of Kerouac. What a spirit!

I like to read Kerouac on this day, the 18th of February, because it's my way of honouring my friend who died seven years ago today. Last year I read The Dharma Bums over the 18th and 19th, and the year before was On the Road. It's good to delve a little into the Buddhist Scriptures and the Tao Te Ching, too. When my friend, Rich, used to talk about these; the beats, Buddhist philosophy, and Taoism, he got the sparkle in his eyes I imagine I get when I talk or write about Zola. He was well-matched with Kerouac, the deep thinking free spirit, at once worldly and other-worldly. 

And, this week I've got plenty to blog about. In fact I'm a little bogged down in drafts! I want to write about Book IV of The Faerie Queene (that's last on the list), L'Assommoir, which I finished last night, and, most excitingly, the Zoladdiction Event (read Fanda's post for details). I've got this post all planned (in my head at least) so I'm looking forward to writing this one (tomorrow, most likely)! I also have a post to write on Les Liaisons Dangereuses, and I'd like to catch up with those joining in with French February to see how you're doing.

For now, though, I'm going back to Kerouac. I loved this quote:

And I realise that no matter where I am, whether in a little room full of thought, or in this endless universe of stars and mountains, it’s all in my mind. There’s no need for solitude. So love life for what it is, and form no preconceptions whatever in your mind.

It sort of reminded me of the quote from Carl Sagan - "we're all made of star-stuff", which I always liked. This morning, there was mist and a very fine covering of frost, and it was like a cosmic dusty forest.

Oh, and the Classic Club Spin: I got One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel García Márquez. As it was on my "neutral" list, all I can manage is an "oh". But I'll begin this in March!