I Am Becoming Increasingly Difficult To Please

I Am Becoming Increasingly Difficult To Please As A Reader, But I Adore Being Surprised By A Really Wonderful Book, Written By Someone I've Never Heard Of Before.

There's A Point At Which Writing A Book, Or A Long Article, Begins To Feel Like Mental Labor, And It's Too Painful To Connect In The World In Any Real Way Mid-process. The Only Way To Survive Is To Write Until It Is All Said And Done.

The Land Itself, Of Course, Was Careless Of Its Name. It Still Is. You Can Call It What You Like, Fight All The Wars You Want In Its Name. Change Its Name Altogether If You Like. The Land Is Still Unblinking Under The African Sky. It Will Absorb White Man's Blood And The Blood Of African Men, It Will Absorb Blood From Slaughtered Cattle And The Blood From A Woman's Birthing With Equal Thirst. It Doesn't Care.

In Ways I Don't Entirely Have The Words For An Experience, Thought Or A Lesson Isn't Real For Me Until I've Written Down.

I Listen Mostly To Classical Music.