Wednesday, January 17, 2007

THAT STINKING SINKING FEELING (DEFEAT 01)

Here's what's happening: there are only 24 hours in each day. And I need about 7 of them (realistically) to sleep. I'm not going to do the math, because this isn't a math issue, but what it is is a time issue. And the issue is that I have none. To really produce something worth producing, I've got to have the idea, let it germinate, let it rattle around, experiment, revise, and take a breather. When I've only got a couple of hours (and I'm talking a couple, not a few, or a handful, but a couple) to myself each day, I stop thinking holistically. My thought patterns become a disastrously sewn quilt patched together from great, great grandpa's beloved civil war jacket, the tissue paper pat-ratted away from two Christmases back, a scrap from a burlap sack, a piece of sandpaper. The point is: that's not a quilt you can sleep with.

Thanks to the scan - o - matic - prime, I can now sometimes post excerpts from mountains of illegible notebooks. Maybe these paper pages can keep me warm tonight, reminding me of a time when I could think something through instead of grabbing a moment here and there like a fugitive:

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