However, I do read a lot, but not as much as I did in my youth when I would consume three hundred pages a day on top of reading matter that came my way in school or at work.  Lately, I have been re-reading old classics: Freud's "Leonardo Da Vinci and a Memory of His Childhood," (Yes, I know he is considered old hat and too much of a Dead White Man but his prose is exquisite English, he makes his points with supreme and relentless logic and every page sparkles with erudition and knowledge about a million and one things, such as languages, history and anthropology), Karl Marx's "The Communist Manifesto," and Paul Goodman's "Growing up Absurd."  My biggest impediment, with to regard to reading, is the Freaking New York Times. Sometimes, after reading their invariably verboise and predictable tomes of supposed sagacity, I am spent of intellecutal energy and watch reruns of the Beverly Hillbillies.  However, I do read a lot, but not as much as I did in my youth when I would consume three hundred pages a day on top of reading matter that came my way in school or at work.  Lately, I have been re-reading old classics: Freud's "Leonardo Da Vinci and a Memory of His Childhood," (Yes, I know he is considered old hat and too much of a Dead White Man but his prose is exquisite English, he makes his points with supreme and relentless logic and every page sparkles with erudition and knowledge about a million and one things, such as languages, history and anthropology), Karl Marx's "The Communist Manifesto," and Paul Goodman's "Growing up Absurd."  My biggest impediment, with to regard to reading, is the Freaking New York Times. Sometimes, after reading their invariably verboise and predictable tomes of supposed sagacity, I am spent of intellecutal energy and watch reruns of the Beverly Hillbillies.  