In General, I Almost Always Watch Foreign

There's A Point At Which Writing A Book, Or A Long Article, Begins To Feel Like Mental Labor, And It's Too Painful To Connect In The World In Any Real Way Mid-process. The Only Way To Survive Is To Write Until It Is All Said And Done.

But I Plucked A New, Different, Worldly Soul For Myself -- Maybe A Soul I Found In The Spray Thrown Up By The Surge Of That Distant African River As It Plummets Onto Black Rocks And Sends Up Into The Sun A Permanent Arc Of A Rainbow.

I Listen Mostly To Classical Music.

It's A Long Day's Drive Any Way You Look At It. With A Man Who Has Taken Your Sins - Real And Imagined - And Stitched Them Onto The Sackcloth Of His Own Soul, It Is Endless.

The Rains Are Rhythmic, Coming Religiously In The Afternoons (after Lunch Has Been Eaten But Before Tea, So That The Nights Are Washed Clean-black With Bright Pinpoints Of Silver Starlight Hanging Over A Restless, Grateful Earth).