the unease of a life led by work... if only the knowledge of that future sublimity could appease the anguish of present ennui? why must i be caught up in nostalgia? so easily? i may not write again, not for four months anyway... what a bore... travel is most conductive to writing. to thinking in general. it's been a while since i last thought. but what must be done today? if not crumble before limitation? jesus i must do more in my spare time. but how jolly great it is to have distractions, in these grey periods one must pass as a means to an end. because work is a mens to an end, at least dehumanizing work, which mine isn't. so i shouldn't complain. really. anyway... jolly distractions yes... like late nights dancing, or the surprising warmth of spring when i exit momentarily to breathe after not having seen the sun for about eighteen hours, (which feel like years, and i am surprised, almost, at that newness.) or, last but not least... the astounding greatness that is martha nussbaum, and how every single time i fall across something of hers, i almost topple over with amazement realizing that yes, she has once again described (but no, wait, i should say intuito, but am too lazy to get a dictionary) so elegantly the essence of what it means to be alive, to put it crudely (as is my fashion, or lack thereof...) and all of a sudden i feel again. thank you nussbaum.