God help me I just don't care right now. It's a beautiful day in LA and I am actively procrastinating. Generally, I procrastinate by cleaning my apartment, playing computer solitaire, and doing other silly inane things that take up all of my time, and feeling guilty the whole while. It's a really dumb way to be because not only does the writing not get done but I don't really enjoy anything else at the same time. This week has been filled with more active procrastination, which means I have had some fine meals, gone to the Rauschenberg exhibit at LACMA (which I highly recommend), done some of my volunteer stuff, taken some scenic drives and am going to Santa Monica tonight. The article is...ahem... gestating you could say. There will be a serious piper's bill for this dance, but wtf.
Rauschenberg's No.4 Los Angeles (1981) [From Art Gallery of New South Wales]
Monday night is WS Merwin night, which promises to be great. I am hoping while I am at the reading, the shoemaker's elves will come and finish my article.
It could happen, right?
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