Tuesday, April 11, 2017


Geof Huth, "QUOX" (11 April 2017)

It is too much to ask oneself to make so many unique, even if little, things in one day. The body feels it. The press of time becomes oppressive just before it becomes offensive.

The mind is pulled in many directions, so it is pulled a little apart. Such frenetic making, without a concomitantly intense seeing, hearing, and taking-in, just tires the self.

For days cannot be set aside only for making. There was also the seven hours of driving I did today, the hourslong visit, the conversation with strangers in the bar. The latter was a good reprieve, but it lasted long enough to make the day seem too long.

Too long for what? Too long to make a eight pwoermds, write a few of them down by hand, and write the tiniest essay about the results.

Of course, I might have needed more sleep than I had managed to squeeze in last night (AKA this morning). So we'll see what tomorrow brings.

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