More in These titles mean nothing.

I should write here more. It would be good for me in many ways. And it probably wouldn’t hurt you either.

I have a jillion reasons I don’t write here.
1. Laziness
2. Lack of discipline
3. Nothing to say.
That’s not a jillion but it’s three. I have three reasons not to write and I had two reasons to write. (1. Me, 2. You) Maybe you and me are the only reasons to write here. The reader and the writer. Yin and yang. The pendulum swings.

I’m not writing anywhere else. Not in notebooks. Not at 750 words. Not at the new old Open Diary. My writing groups are stagnant too - or my relationship to them. I went to a lot of effort to buy a Thoughts of Dog calendar book and I have put only tiny bits of things in it - nothing for the last few months and it started in September… so. Anyway that’s typical.

My life is ok. Not bad. I am free to do what I want to do.

I’m not terribly happy with the way my life is going though. I feel no desire to tell you stuff. I don’t want to write about the way things are falling apart.

The good parts seem mundane. They are things I’ve told you about already.

There was a guy in OD who gave relationship advice. I forget his name and he wasn’t part of OUR circle. I tried to communicate with him unsuccessfully but I read him for a while. I remember him answering someone who said - WHAT CAN I WRITE ABOUT? - by telling the person to pick out a small incident in their day/life/whatever and just write the hell out of it. I thought that was good advice. Write about the book you’re reading. Write about the meal you cooked. Write about what you’re wearing. Write about a pang of emotion that struck you unexpectedly. Write about your dog or your cats or you kids or your husband.

Obey great Nike - JUST DO IT.

I believe that. I just DO(n’t).

One semi-positive thing in my life is the new clip on lamp I bought to attach to my bed’s headboard. I hadn’t had a functioning light in my bedroom for a long time. Gracie pulled down the pull cord from the ceiling light and it could not be easily fixed because it had broken off inside the fixture. So anyway I got a lamp and had to buy the bulb separately - drat! - and now I can read in bed… 24 hours a day. I don’t read in bed 24 hours a day but I can read at any time in the 24 hours each day has. So....

I’ve been reading real books. Cover to cover. Mainly three -
1. Jane Austin’s Pride and Punishment . I know I told you already but it was such an accomplishment that I am telling you again.
2. Somerset Maugham’s Cakes and Ale, sort of autobiographical tale of writers and their lives. English of course. I have a soft spot for Maugham.
3. Mrs. Harris, the tale of the murder of Herman Tarnower, the Scarsdale Diet, by his unhappily discarded mistress. Diana Trilling wrote it and it’s mainly a courtroom drama but/still/in particular I’m enjoying it. Almost done. I watched two you tubes.

Not sure either of them did me any good.
The first is Jean Harris with a young Jane Pauley.
The second is the author with William Buckley.
Neither is particularly cheery.

Apologies for the pictures. What they have going for themselves is that they were easy to find.

Happy Sunday.
Pet the dog.
Eat a Cliff bar.
Watch a Perry Mason rerun.
Grab life gently by the horns and subdue it.
Don’t shoot anyone.

Last updated October 27, 2019