If I don’t throw myself headlong into an intellectual project, I will go mad. Mad! I say. This might mean not worrying so much about blogging here or reading other blogs–whatever!! As you might know, I work more part time hours now than I did when I spent one day a week manning the art gallery. This is all for the great purpose of not going into school debt. For those who want to know, I don’t mind it. It’s fine. The job will, eventually, allow me to fulfill this one great nagging intellectual project that I have in mind (which I’m choosing not to share). If the job were one entailing more responsibility, I wouldn’t be able to accomplish anything on the side. It would be an end unto itself. As it is, it’s a fun job (most days).
Meanwhile, though, I need to stave off madness by finishing the book, based off the Oso and Julia stories, that I meant to complete by the end of December. I have high hopes of unloading this one on an indie press, but we shall see whether the editor/publisher will like what she reads when I’m done. If she decides it’s worthy of her imprint, then I’ll give more information at that time. This is all just to say that I’m not going to force myself to regularly post here, though I’ll try. I need to prioritize rather than fall into my classic nihilist cave where my inner voice informs me, Everything’s meaningless! Why bother?*, while my animus tells my inner voice to Shut up, already! Everything was jolly before you came around. You won’t be surprised to know that, as a child, when I first read Ecclesiastes, I felt like I’d come home–found my water in the desert and all that, even though I lived in the soggy Pacific NW, where I was endlessly searching for a dry spot to be left alone. Ay, semantics and symbolism, my favorites! What does the word desert mean to a child who listens to rain pounding on her rooftop nine months out of the year?
Ah, well, yes. The only way out of the cave is take-charge action! I’m pretty sure King Solomon would have likened that to vanity, too, though he might have considered it the hard day’s work that allows one to eat, drink, and be merry. Let’s hope so. Not that I would (hope or be merry). One has to eat; this one would rather enjoy beverages: coffee, tea, vegetable juice, tonics, wine, and hot toddies. The goats knew what was good. Lest you believe I’m speaking religiously, I’m not. I’m referencing the legend of the goats and their joyful play upon discovering coffee. I wonder what would happen if a herder regularly fed his goats or cows coffee. Would you end up with cafe lattes fresh from the teat?
I’m going to go to bed with my books now. I’m reading two nonfiction books: have mother, will travel by Claire and Mia Fontaine and South With the Sun: Roald Amundsen, his polar explorations, & the quest for discovery by Lynne Cox. I’m also still reading, at my leisure, Tom Simon’s Writing Down the Dragon and Other Essays. For fiction, I’m savoring a volume of Anton Chekhov’s short stories by only allowing myself to read one story a night.
*I often wonder what the point is of foisting more and more absurd literature, which the world doesn’t need and wouldn’t miss, onto the publishing marketplace.