Some theatre each day keeps the doctor away…


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I think the latter would be the best (in reference to my dilemma yesterday) – that is, thinking I’m not-so-good but being pleasantly surprised by the literary compliments that come my way.  (The thing is, too – if one thinks one is not so good, then there’s the hope for improvement, and it’s much nicer to live with hope than frustration, methinks.  Plus, from what I’ve heard from other writers (though I couldn’t tell you any off the top of my head), it’s the early years that they look back on with the fondest memories, before they became acknowledged.)  But this will just depress me.

Found a game called Curiosity – what’s inside the cube? today, which involves tapping – along with many other people online – little ‘cubelets’ that make up the outer layer of a very big cube (we’re talking millions of the cubelets on each layer).  One player, whenever it happens, will be the one to tap the last cubelet on the last layer, and they alone will get something “amazingly life-changing”, and also get to choose whether they will inform the rest of the gaming world about it.

And so I’ve been tapping away for about three hours now.  Mmhmm.  Using my time productively, as always.

158/whatever in proustsag.  (Think about it.)


Written by epistemysics

March 3, 2013 at 2:31 pm

Posted in Uncategorized

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