Writing" folder on my desktop was creating undue stress.
Sometimes, when I feel like "a naked strand between two immensities," I ask myself, "What's worrying me right now?" After harvesting the oblong fruit of my anxieties, I lay them out in front of me and ask a second question: "How can I fix them?"Īgo, around 3 p.m., I realized the benevolent chaos that is my "Blog Stanford in 2009 beating USC. Musicĭiscovery sites: The Sixty One. New Yorker: How Steve Jobs t ook back Apple, and Truman Capote from the 1950s. The future of punctuation is here, and it’s Rebecca Taber and a story about war and love.
The enlightened(?) mayhem? The birth of Jeff Bezos. guy at Yale is a pretty good writer. The group behind
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The 9 essential geek books the top 10 moments in Full Tilt Poker a comprehensive recap of Obama’s chances next year this Aaron S.C. Here are some articles I think you’d like. Online: writing for 12 hours and 55 minutes, and browsing for 4 hours and 22 In Week 21, I spent 25 hours and 44 minutes Week 20, I spent 38 hours online: 13 hours and 9 minutes writing, and 13 hoursĪnd 11 minutes browsing the web.
If the magic of the moment imparted from pen to paper had evaporated off the Have become normal and affected, taken away from its original environment, as Revelation, but these questions, recollections, observations, well, all of them I've tried categorizing them, and re-reading them, to stoke the kindle of Thinned and dissolving with the passage of light and time. My frequent night-time revelations - looked, as an oeuvre, flightyĪnd unfinished, the phrases antediluvian leaf pressings in a musty old book, Margins of my Chekhov book - words often in layers on top of each other, given Upon those old words and thoughts after they had hardened into an unassailable truthĪbout my world. After three days, my notes, scribbled in the Scribbling it down would allow me to, after an indeterminate time, stumble Rock - the details of the islands shook out some indelible truth out from myĬore, and while my emotion were bursting inchoate, I was convinced that The translucent highlights of swaying moss growing on the undersides of river The indigo floral pattern on the dress of Art Cafe's most beautiful waitress, Of ants emerging from mounds of wet sand, the ersatz quality of local Gatorade, Motorcycle tricycle into the city, straddling the the rails of a ricketyĬharter boat, walking down the bleached white sand of Helicopter Island. Porch of our $3-a-night hotel room, balancing on the cramped seat of a Thought constantly: riding in a cramped van to El Nido, sitting on the sodden Planned only to think, and then to write down those thoughts. Week, and, newly birthed into an environment without the weight of refreshing The situation: I had renounced my computer for a Plays, four sets of clothes, my cell phone, a blue ballpoint pen, and Unfurled four days after I boarded a planeīound for Puerto Princesa, carrying a backpack containing Chekhov: Of clarity in life - unblinking, elemental, mere momentary openings to pureĬonsciousness - often rise, unpremeditated, after the fallow yeast ofĮxperiences has had enough time to steep within itself.