Diminished capacity

You're Lewis Black. You're mad as hell, and
probably going to take it some more so that you
can use it in your segment.


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[Via Becky (a.k.a. "Stephen Colbert").]

Why does this not surprise me?

I may not have been spewing my venom here as of late, but make no mistake: of venom I have not run out!

Work-related fatigue has just dimished my ability to unleash it. Or even read or write at leisure. My former thesis supervisor warned me that I probably wouldn't feel up to reading, but I didn't really consider very seriously that it could be true. I certainly didn't think that I'd me too tired to write! (I do have some ideas, though, that I really should get down on paper...)

I'm behind in my knitting even. And Christmas is coming.

I'm still trying to find a balance. Over the past three weeks, I have worked approximately one hundred and forty-five hours. I haven't had time for much besides work. And periods of rest (either zoned-out in front of the television or asleep--often not soundly.)

I fear I am becoming dull. Personally, the very act of putting this entry into print is lulling me to sleep. I can imagine what it's doing for you...

On an up note, I've acquired two new books: my own copy of the Cambridge History of Italian Literature (the apparent last-available-in-print copy of a text that was of such great help in my thesis writing), and a copy of The Great Code: The Bible and Literature by Northrop Frye (more pre-grad thesis reading.) And guess who's getting Susanna Clarke's Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell for Christmas??! Reading that is an incentive for achieving balance if ever I could conceive one!

But first: the last forty or so pages of The Church of Solitude await. Time to muster my energy.