making plans to settle for more of the same, i sit here with Thom and switch between calm and anxious longing for the time to come. there is a new project with George about to overtake me. the summer promises a lot of down time. i have already ordered it all in my head, and my expectation is a major house-cleaning and life-stuffs overhaul. and then i get up to fix myself another drink.

so i continue.

work remains this continual open wound. i explained to an ex-colleague that i assumed it would settle things if i just had a job, with some money, and the freedom to write. turns out that this “freedom” becomes boredom and/or exhaustion depending.

the point is that the old stories in my head are becoming merely plots that lead to nowhere. I am looking for the theme. the point.