Monday, October 3, 2011

swimming with friends

So, even though I get up in the night, excited to write whatever I am writing,  now a catalogue for an exhibit of Surrealism: New World, to be held in San Francisco, I sometimes --  read: frequently but not always -- get up EARLY, as in between 7 and 8, to swim in an aquacize class with friends. It helps to see the same faces, none of which are remarkably youngish, which also helps. Not that the mind sticks to the exercises, it rather runs about, nothing being extra-strenuous in the exercise mode.

My friend Jane Isay, just back from Georgia and Armenia, just saw the First Shoe, in a cave, in an expedition led by Ian Tattersall, if I have the name right. It sounded stupendous, and set me up mentally, I  hoped, and still hope,  for what I would like to be a day's writing -- no chance, have to design my seminar in Letters and Lives for next semester at the CUNY Graduate Center, have to go to Staples to renew my yellow cartridge on the printer (grrrrr: no one told me they expired! people, yes, all around me, but cartridges???) and perhaps to my Women Writing Women's Lives biography group to hear about, oh you know, twitter and facebook and linkedwhatever it is and so on, so how is it one makes uninterrupted time for writing?

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