thoughts on this day

I usually buy a book of poetry of some sort when I travel. This trip has yielded six thus far, but four were from goodwill. I'm taking a gimme.

I finally finished "Tell We Have Faces". It was beautiful. I'm still soaking in it. The next day, I began my first attempt at Proust; "A Remembrance of Things Past: Swan's Way" to be specific. On a break, thumbing through my new poetry collection, I read "A Bookmark" by Tom Disch. He writes, "Four years ago, I started reading Proust. Although I'm past the halfway point, I still have seven hundred pages of reduced type left before I reach the end...Four years ago, by God! - and even then how I was looking forward to the day I would be able to forgive, at last, and to forget "Remembrance of Things Past." Hmm. This may be a sign.

I love traveling and long to do it more often. I love being able to schluff obligations and deadlines and... everything. Even if just for the afternoon...just for a week. We need breaks. Even from things we love. Should an independently wealthy investor want to fund my...how you say....life studies. I should keep a house in Nashville and another in Ireland. Or Scotland.... for many reasons. ...and because there's always the anticipation of the change, the chance that what is wrong is the result of where you are.