I've said it before, but that makes it no less true: it is hard to start again once you've stopped. This is applicable for all manner of things, but for me it most often relates to exercising and writing. The former is so difficult as to be essentially impossible. It has certainly been more than a year since I've done anything that I would call Exercise with a capital e. Fortunately, I am still obliged to walk around the neighborhood from time to time, so my limbs haven't atrophied completely.
The writing? The writing is something else altogether. It nags at me differently, and perhaps more persistently, and it requires more concerted effort to ignore. But, as is evident to the four of you who read this, I have managed to put forth that effort for many weeks. Impressive, is it not?
Now, though, I am sitting here on a Sunday afternoon trying to sneak up on the writing through the blog, since the real task of the day is to work on the scary Big Project--the thing that would be my thesis if it were a thesis. Instead it is a Collection of My Work--a term which never fails to make me chortle. Nevertheless, it exists. Sadly, one of the designated readers has failed to be overcome by the brilliance of this mighty collection and has required many changes of me. So far I have reacted to his notes with A) defensiveness B) profanity and C) procrastination. Time is officially running out for this particular three-pronged approach. It is time to embrace such helpful notes as, "In humor writing, the jokes must be clever and work well." And try to make new jokes that this one man might find more clever or better working. Because, after all, I do wish to actually get the MA after all that homework and thousands of dollars and all. It would be silly to stop now.
Clever. Work well. Man, what a good idea. I'm on it.
Meanwhile, while I haven't been telling you four anything, I have been busy. First, I was sick. Seemingly interminably. But that excuse is weeks out of date now. Otherwise, it's been a cultural extravaganza.
A circus in the park.
A movie in the fog.
Jazz at the museum.
More and more and more music.
One long play.
Six short plays.
Jazz in North Beach.
And, the glorious mistress of the Big Idea, Laurie Anderson. At Homeland on Friday, she held that audience in her thrall. When she played a encore on her electric violin, hundreds of people sat silent, silent. You could feel the listening humming through us all.
You should probably move here. There's a lot going on.