Sheer Passion

Last night after JASSO, rather than hitting our usual Italian place, for some ungodly reason we opted for greasy Chinese (the floating white chunks are tofu, rest assured). I was feeling it this morning... You know it's a reliable sign that your metabolism is about to start caving when getting up in the morning after a night of all-you-can-eat sludge just about does you in. I couldn't even sleep on the subway this morning, which is unheard of for me. After only 5 hours of sleep the very LAST thing I should be is awake on the train at 7am.

I'm trying to save up what energy I can for aikido later this afternoon by just sitting at my desk and reading Gerald Clarke's biography of Capote. I'm just about at the part where Capote starts a job at The New Yorker. There's something appealing about a job like that where everyone is so fascinated by what they're doing that time seems to have no meaning; they just work with only their deadlines in mind. I guess what I mean to say is that there's something grossly unappealing about always counting the number of days left in the work week no matter how rewarding you find your job to be. To be busy on Saturday and Sunday would be more than a fair exchange for creative work that always kept you enthralled. Who's with me?