I’m only 50 words into today’s writing, and it’s plodding. I had half-seriously wanted to finish today. At least the melodies of Her Space Holliday are spilling their magnificence into my eardrums.
I am all choked up just now thinking about how subjective satisfaction is. My life is far from satisfying to me, yet I am privileged in so many ways. I think it’s somehow better to stay dissatisfied, in general. At least it helps with productivity… or does it? I have no idea if it’s my lack of satisfaction that truly inspires my writing.
I can’t think straight right now. I was going to maybe leave Iowa today, and drive home tonight, but now we’ve decided it’ll be better to leave early tomorrow. It was mostly my thinking about car-productivity that did it. If we drive in the daytime, there will be sunlight, and we’ll all be able to read and do other things in the car. I need to start a new book. I brought about five of them with to Iowa, but I’ve hardly had time to write, much less read.
I gave my aunt and uncle from Chicago a copy of Photocopies and Staples. I need to remember to put that online one of these days. Or anyway I mean to.