When you write of "this ability... to easily fall out of things", I know what you mean, I think. I've absentmindedly dropped habits honed for decades with a regularity that has been both helpful (quitting smoking was a pc. of cake) and disappointing. I can't believe how easy it was to stop drawing & painting altogether, and writing has likewise fallen by the wayside in the last year. There are people who say that to go without their art (or habit) is like going without air, but I'm not one of them. (Alas! A lack of compulsion!] Do you wish that you had whatever orientation makes people feel compelled to write/paint/dance/smoke/eat vast amounts of chocolate? I sometimes find myself envying them.
I'd like to be writing more but I've fallen so out of step with all my writing arenas (articles, journal writing, letters & email, essays, papers) that my heart caves when I merely consider them. I regret this, because I feel like a lot of life just kind of rolls off me if I'm not writing about it, and because I feel like my friends just kind of slip away if I'm not writing to them. (and so I hope that the notion of this doughy blog appeals to you & fits in your writing and correspondence paradigm -- I'd like to be writing to you more often, and this format is free of the guilt & reluctance that haunt my desktop email applications. Plus, no postage necessary!)
On the subject of postage -- I have a xerox of a thingy by Anne Fadiman that I'd like to send to wherever in the UK UB. If you would email me your info, I would appreciate it. I think I'd like to keep the tradition of real letter writing alive, if only intermittantly!
Other wonderings: have you settled the matter of 'earning your keep?' What new enterprises lie before you?
Happy birthday! (A bit early -- better than too late). I wish you the following: That you and Charlene make food. That you and Chumumba make faces. That your arms are warm and that you are writing rigourously in your determination to work those stiffening synapses back into electric expression, to cultivate (of affect) an addiction to writing.That you are feeling content and optimistic about sharing bed, house, city and continent with the loved ones, that you enjoy unlonely meals, cold feet on warm calves, help with the dishes and hot beverages.
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