|
Sunday, July 27, 1997 11:17:11 PM I think I'll force myself to be brief tonight. So many things to say this week, but no time to say it, or rather no time specifically set aside to say it. Places to go, people to see... The next line is supposed to be "hearts to break," but I've been using that joke for years now and it's starting to lose its value, despite the fact that I mostly tell it to myself. There was a party in Chicago last night that I wish I could have gone to. I would certainly not have minded visiting Chicago again. If these had been any other weeks I would have been there and not here on this spot. But these have not been any of those weeks, and making anything more than a token effort at doing something for myself is just not in the picture. This afternoon, in fact, I had one of those panic attacks I thought had left. At about 3:00 I got nervous about life, about having accomplished so little, about having not risen very high, about the emptiness at the end of the day, about the muttering crazies I used to see in New York, and with whom I always identified. Today, for some reason, I panicked over the idea of becoming a solitary middle-aged bore who reads books and then goes and recites them to a and audience of zero out in the park, and who seeks out adventure in the form of Paul Auster novels. It is all dietary, these flashes of paranoia. If I ate better fruits, and walked around a little more often, and cried a little more often, such events would seem less like warnings and more like wake-up calls. But I have to go to sleep. I have a mountain of work to do, but for some reason I feel like spiraling down the drain. I have been trying, for a few weeks now, to turn this webplace into something else, or to at least do something different with it. I'll let you know when it happens.
|
Something Random? Click Here
[an error occurred while processing this directive]
You Doing? (anything you type will replace the above commentary)
|
