Big dream last night about being a donor to a lecture series on creativity. They needed 1.5 million dollars to sustain themselves. I gave one million up front. I was in a position to give a lot. It was Foongy with her husband. Her skin had turned darker. She was glad to see me after all the time. I was younger looking than I am now. And I had arrived (to financial stability). Unlike now when I am desparate and climbing. Earlier the dream was about settling in garages. It was the garage at Dexterdale Road.
My mornings have been excellent, especially when I don’t stress, but enjoy and create.
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Waking from the Wii launch, slept almost all day Sunday after waiting twenty-four hours that I don’t think I can do again - under difficult conditions: cold, noise, being moved, tension. In the morning, I got bad diarrhea - it was very difficult to stay in line. What I did was rush to Walmart - advice given by Ben (first in line with Chris). I’ll need to walk to the CVS first thing this morning to get a razor (I forgot to shave). Last night had an aspect that is hard to give up: the camaraderie. The time passed fast because of conversation. I never used my headphones. Exceedingly tired I was during the wee hours. The trip was a mess of smoke (not mine) and beer. Young men in trench coats waiting for the first launch since they were able. In the morning, children with parents, still making it into the line of a hundred (of which I was second). Still tired now, but happy that I made it. Still recovering, the morning came too soon. Instead of doing pages, I might have to sleep on the trip in. The chair was pretty comfortable. Wanting to continue camaraderie - but that would have taken cards, which I didn’t have to present. Parts of me still ache, but I did something that gives me confidence for the future and appreciation of a good place to live. I do want to work more and harder, spend less, clean more, love more, waste less, hurt less, be hurt rather than hurt.
Also in the long wind, when cold, to have soft bed, sweetness, many things that are good.
The camaraderie - it will be goodwill that we know when we see, not always, but when we see or think, remembering the Wii launch, having seen it, been there, once now, a big dent, the first and last hurrah for one, more for others.
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I like the end-to-end train ride. It is good to be able to go from one city to the other. I think in the future I will be able to come down for work in DC of my own - videography, photography, sound recording, interviews
I must in a rush take my time and apply it to the sites, with a renaissance of energy and creativity - so much more time, and with this new posture of early rising intensity, the sky is the limit. I wish I could take that now, but I cannot. If I can ramp it up sooner, I will, with weekends, mornings, evenings. There is a limit on what I can do, because I get exhausted and need a break. I don’t want to push myself too hard.
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Flying along on the train, I see the fields and now a town, passing behind me. I woke very early but felt good because I went to bed early, much earlier than I used to. I’d like to keep going with that, in order to accomplish something in the morning, or at least to feel like I’ve had site time. So much to accomplish, so much to cover, but it is fun to do so. Much in the way of old content to use, and new content coming, so much to edit and weave into something substantial.
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I remember how enthusiastic my literary friend was - how I enjoyed listening to him, but how I argued too much with him on evangelical points. He wanted to remain Catholic; he could have, I know now. He was quoting Teilhard de Chardin - a theologian. I couldn’t remember the points. What he was getting to, I couldn’t understand. I remember visiting his home in Middletown, Delaware. I remember how big his house was, how nice the old homes were on the main street, and meeting his mother. I remember how he came to visit in Rhode Island - it was somehow strange; he arrived all ready, but probably everything was humbler than he expected. The Newport evening out I remember; him liking my sister. Other parts, I can’t remember. But I do remember he was dramatic; things were almost always literary. It was natural that he should become an English professor, even while the road ahead was long. The last I saw him in person, he was going to Ireland, or had just returned.
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I had a dream about living the dream - I was talking about the importance of encylopedias - how I read them, how I am writing one, but that they should be much larger, and fill the wall of each home. When I woke, I thought about my friend who became an English professor and how he is living the dream - and how good that is - how enchanting his lectures must have been, how deep the connections between, how entertaining the dramatizations - so that he couldn’t be passed up, they had to have him as a professor, where they knew he was sound, both a good student and a wonderful professor. He stayed with what he loved and he achieved his goal. I myself love encylopedias and I will continue to write mine.
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