Of all the tomes I read in my younger days, I'd say that none politicized me like Hunter Thompson's Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail '72 -- not for forming my political opinions, but for raising my interest in the political process. And that was an interesting year, given that two years later, both the elected vice president and president who trounced McGovern would be gone from office in separate scandals. As I saw McGovern quoted in one of his obituaries, "We'd have had a better chance two years later." Indeed.
One of the lines that Thompson quotes -- I believe from Jeremiah -- is "The harvest is past, the summer is ended, and we are not saved."
Of course, I'm prone to misinterpretation and plucking quotes out of context, but I feel like my harvest just past with one of the most ridiculous work stretches I've ever encountered. The red leaves tell me summer has ended. Salvation? Don't get me started.
Just finished a mildly interesting book on the mutual dialogue ("trialogue") of Christianity, Islam, and Judaism. The Jews don't have much to say about the afterlife. What happens now is what counts.
One of the chapter's authors brings up the interesting point, though, that a religion that excludes people in its afterlife necessarily is saying something about how the religion will treat those excluded people in this life.
I've found myself giving rather specific advice to a couple of editorial newcomers lately -- as far as mapping out a freelance career and how to approach editorial changes. I enjoy doing that, and I hope they get something out of it. Some folks helped me along the way.
I'm enjoying a moment of relative calm. One of the hardest things about being a freelancer is making yourself work when you'd really rather not. It's been months and months since I've felt like I should be doing anything with my waking hours but working, so that I've not even had to face the choice. I have nothing due in the morning, and my world's not going to fold like a napkin if I don't work to exhaustion. It's a nice feeling.
4 comments:
ah....no gnashing of teeth today. Thas' a real fine place to be.
Did finally read of yore Trappist adventure--left a note on previous post. have been at warp speed. Am not yet able to say "ah" and let shoulders drop--10 days more then it'll be quiet, mostly, 'til Christmas.
Hi, Aunty. Glad to hear you have some quiet time coming up. Ten days . . . I hope you're not filing election reports from Pork Rind Central.
Of course, my moment of relative peace was shattered the next day by a medical report which took the wind out of my sails for a day or so. Then a semiurgent job came in from a client I hadn't heard from in a while, and I realized I've not made enough money this month, and sooner rather than later, it's back to low-level panic. Still beats high-level panic.
But I'm happy for a day of feeling okay. It's more than I've had for some time. And silence is everywhere.
Perhaps one of the biggest jokes in my/our life (the czarina 'n' me) appears in the video recording of our wedding and party, in which the young (barely 27-year-old) czar says with a hopeful tone, "Now I'm ready for things to settle down."
Still ready. Boy, was I young and stupid.
I'm actually pondering a new publishing venture in which I might, down the road, ask for an assist from the Aunty grapevine. More later.
I remember how gung-ho my parents were for George McGovern. RIP, indeed.
I'm glad you are getting a much deserved break. Who was it they called the hardest working man in show business? Dick Clark? You're the Dick Clark of the publishing world.
I'm twiddling my thumbs as well, but that only means the house finally gets cleaned, the garden spiffed, the dog trained, my closet thinned, and the parents shuttled to mid-day luncheons over which I have to shout because they refuse to wear their hearing aides.
@Moi: I am clearing out the dungeon, slowly. I did have one productive day a week or two ago in which I filled up our curbside garbage disposal, took two carloads of cardboard and paper to the recycling bin, and took another few bags of trash and threw them in town dumpsters. (No, they weren't body parts.)
We're talking about 170 square feet, and I haven't begun tackling the bulky things yet. I've been working in this space for 10 years? It didn't, obviously, start out that way. And thankfully there's another room in the house -- the only room in the house with windows on three sides (although northern exposure) -- that makes much more sense as an office.
It does mean that I am on the main floor of the house and no longer in seclusion. Benefits and drawbacks.
I'll eventually use both rooms for offices. The dungeon might become the Land on Demand Proofreading and Copyediting Complex and Center for Unaffiliated Contemplative Mysticism. No phones or computers allowed.
I told the czarina, who is a bit of a collector of crap herself, that the dungeon must have had more junk in it per square inch than about anywhere I've ever been.
Aunty, you started cleaning your office yet?
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