I was reading Alan Hollinghurst’s Paris Review interview on the train today and came across a lot of great insight along with this quote from Henry James he used to keep pinned to his desk…
To live in the world of creation–to get into it and stay in it–to frequent it and haunt it–to think intently and fruitfully–to woo combinations and inspirations into being by a depth and continuity of attention and mediation–this is the only thing–and I neglect it, far and away too much; from indolence, from vagueness, from inattention, and from a strange nervous fear of letting myself go. If I can vanquish that nervousness, the world is mine.
I was just talking to a friend an hour or so ago about how she was having a hard time focusing on her thesis. Ha, too bad I couldn’t remember this then since it’s perfect. I think I’ll email it to her now.
It’s been a long day of work lost and redone, runs in the dark, studious looking men, reading books on trains, laundry, phone calls, laughing with dad about how life is a shit sandwich and every day you take another bite, a bubble bath, some Etta James and Louis armstrong, meowmeowmeows, and now a nice easy book about finding a new world I’ll probably read for five whole seconds before falling asleep to the faint sounds of my neighbor’s music and the sounds of their little dogs nails click click clicking on the floors above me.
Not too bad.
I know I already included a picture of Rupert before but he’s the most interesting thing in my appartment so here you go: