December 9, 2008
This was an uncharacteristically introspective entry. It begins with a pep-talk to myself:
I am, it seems clear by now, working very hard to avoid writing the novel. But why? Has its time not come? Or am I anxious to avoid popular acclaim?Then notes toward a thought which came so swiftly I had to leap over sections to get it down in the instant of inspiration. I don't think I ever did anything with it, and so we'll never know exactly what that thought was:
God bless these ribbons which . . . the nuns of St. Francis Xavier . . . sincere, profound, in no way an affectation. We're talking about women who probably washed with Ivory Soap.
Next, what seems to me a pretty good question. I changed the pronouns to second person midway through, so it would be clear that it was the question that interested me, rather than my own relationship to it
Posit: If I were religious and had a large house, I'd be tempted to set aside one room as a chapel. Question: If you did so, would you be guilty of religious gluttony? Would it violate the sumptuary laws?
Penultimately -- noble word, 'penultimately!' -- a pop quiz I abruptly pulled on myself. Luckily, I had a good answer:
Q. What was the last worthwhile thing I learned?
A. How to deflect an asteroid.
And finally notes toward Dancing With Bears:
D & S
Darger truckling. The ambassador [something].
Darger straightened. "Well. Nothing in his life so ill-became the noble prince as his leaving of it. Still, we should try to remember him as he once was -- noble, commanding, and --" He cleared