June 29th, 2007

new year

Stale, flat, and unprofitable

No thinking. No writing. No flying. Routines fall apart. Last night I didn't sleep -- like the birds were tweeting and it was five in the morning before I could drop off for a few hours. What flow am I resisting. Maybe this is the summer vacation I never had while I was trying to take care of everyone else and following their plans. I'm walking, and reading. Brain stopped again. Let the books do the thinking for me.

Number One Son says I get an F in Summer Vacation. He is doing it right, and thinks I should be going out to movies and concerts, and spending time with my friends. Instead of watching re-runs and playing computer games. He might have something there. Next month, he is off for Ecuador to goof off some more with friends. Highly educational. Yesterday we had an interesting talk about how I am always the person who organizes the places to go and things to do, at our house anyway, you're the butch he said. At Potlatch there was that huge ad hoc dinner party that one person sort of organized, like reinventing the wheel, and I stood by with tamiam and watched in amazement and went along for the ride even though there would have been far easier ways to get myself fed. Why do I want someone else to do the planning for me, even the planning that simply doesn't get done if I don't do it. I wait around for someone to take care of me, and then fuck it, finally I'm picking up the phone, it's not rocket science. It's for you.

It wouldn't be a problem if I was having more fun. This weekend I am supposed to be goofing off with my study group. Watercolor, I tell myself. Focus. One thing. Then another thing. Collage, scrapbook, which one? both? Haven't packed yet.

I had a really good yoga class Wednesday, shopped for groceries. Yesterday I got my hair done. Number One Son made me watch a wonderfully cool movie, The Fountain with Hugh Jackman, all cosmological mysticism. Finished another Timothy Zahn YA novel, like going down a slide I told Number One Son when he criticized my taste in summer reading. Like I didn't just finish Love and Death in the American Novel (took notes) and now I'm finishing The Economy of Prestige all about the sociology of literary and cultural prizes, very readable.

Well look at that. I can always write myself out of it.

Oh yeah last night we finally got the last episode of Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip, which was a tremendous teevee series that got cancelled halfway through the first tiny season. A backstage drama about a comedy variety show something like Saturday Night Live, with everyone's favorite actor from the West Wing not to mention Matthew Perry; with wit and pathos it actually proposed the possibility of rapprochement in the culture wars between the godless television humorists and the christians, friendship and like that. Too serious. Too smart. I'm guessing the last few episodes were written after the axe fell.