Wednesday, March 25, 2009


So I finished my second draft. But I'm not opening any champagne bottles or anything yet because I think there's still work to be done. I continue to vacillate between megalomania and deep despair, tempered with the mind-numbing apathy that comes from sitting in a cubicle for so many hours a day.

And now I'd like to take a brief moment to declare my love for Garrison Keillor:

"In spring, a person's thoughts naturally turn toward what you would rather be doing than earning a living, and in America this usually means Being An Artist. This is the true American dream. Winning the lottery is a faint hope, becoming a sports hero is a daydream, but publishing poetry is the ambition of one-third of the American people and another third are thinking about writing a memoir."

1 comment:

Eastern Cynic said...

It's disappointing to think that any feelings of artistic possibility are simply the chemicals in my brain switching away from the seasonal affective disorder part of the circuit. Moreso because it's probably true.