I officially declare this blog to be boring.
Where is the wit, the observation, the soul-bearing? Feh. It is to laugh.
So I’m thinking to myself, what I need is a new project. This would be in addition to Coriolanus over at lacunagroup.org, and in addition to prepping William Blake’s Inn for UGA. After all, those only take me through October, right?
I have before me two books. One is A quiet strength: meditations on the masculine soul. The other is Affirmations for artists. Never mind why I have them, I just have them.
So I think what I need to do is to discipline myself to write every day, to open one of these books and to respond to the topic on the first page and work my way through the book. I wouldn’t necessarily respond to the actual meditation, mind you, because they’re pretty lame, but perhaps I can do better with the material.
The Quiet strength book is actually daily meditations, so that would last an entire year. The Affirmations book is only 200 or so terms in alphabetical order, so that would only take me through next spring.
What is the sense of the assembly?
He that will give good words to thee will flatter
Beneath abhorring.
Masculine soul–is that like Men are from Mars, Women from Venus? That book changed my life. I went to one of his seminars and got a hug.
You need vacation! Go to Tuscany…
I’m on vacation. Panama City Beach. Tuscany later.
And none of you are helping here.
Affirmations for Artists are called subsidies. You commie.
I think the Quiet strength is a good choice. It would be like your year of creativity, which proved interesting and kept you on track. At least you knew when you weren’t being creative.
Why write every day? I write every day and it hasn’t helped me.
YOU CAN DOOO EET (said the reader)
Better you than me. I’ve been thinking about writing on my blog weekly for at least a year now.
So, one vote for a year’s worth of my meditations on being a man.
Oh, come on, it will be fun.
Should cleave easily into your work on Coriolanus, what with the Man Show Concept and all.
I don’t know whether you’re being ironic, but I was actually thinking that. (Getting out the drums and the chest paint.)
I’m always ironic, even when I’m not.