Now listening: Whiskeytown, "Strangers Almanac"
Especially: Track 9, 'Waiting to Derail'
A week is barely time to get one's house in order, catch up on fiction and make new charts & tables of grammar points to prepare for summer language study. It being all the time there is, though, it'll do.
I'm without my computer for the week, which keeps me on track, though; it's amazing how much more productive i am without constant internet access. The first two mornings I woke up with an urge to check email, and had to distract myself with books and breakfast and a walk. Going to bed it's the same: without email, facebook, online shopping, how do I know I've completed my day?
I titled this entry "In Praise of Lazy", because I'd like to express my adulation for low-speed productivity. Not inactivity, just not furious, driven, industrialized nations productivity. The sort of quiet plodding best suited to life in a small tower on a midsize island, where you mostly eat bread and beer and produce, and write in notebooks while listening to casette tapes you made of college radio shows. And every day, somehow, there's still time to wash dishes and sleep soundly and check the horizon for new kinds of sailing vessels, even while you're reading and writing and eating, which is all I do anyway, but here and now these things take up more time.
The beauty of city living is, honestly, the people. Whom I love. And I feel inhuman wishing for an island without them, wishing for solitude and focus. I mean, I get why folks sometimes want to be quietists; but I also get why larger communities hold them in suspicion. It's a fine line between self and others.