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The Lost Weekend

Posted by Dirck on 18 March, 2013

Alas, I was not out getting profoundly drunk with Ray Milland… although I was also left out of the screaming DTs associated with that sort of diversion, so perhaps “alas” isn’t quite the word.  However, it was about as productive as if I’d been out on a cinematic and drama-rich bender.

How did this happen?  Largely, it was the weather.  We got something like 20 cm more* snow from last Friday through to last night when it finally knocked off.  More shovelling, leading to exhaustion, forgetfulness, and shaky hands, none of which really help with what I consider useful activity.  The best I managed was to polish a couple of new pages pecked out over the preceding week and get them published on my site, and that was the pre-dawn Saturday part of the weekend.  The rest of the weekend… little progress.

Yesterday was also my wife’s first craft sale of the year, meaning I was lone parenting and that definitely keeps a man and his pens (and moreso pens of others) apart.  The Amazing Leap-Lad learned a painful lesson about not picking up toys, from which he got a band-aid around a toe, which means that so long as the lesson takes the day was not altogether wasted.

Apart from that publication, I did get two things accomplished.  I established the first three (of, I believe, five) pens in the New Rotation, which will be revealed as the week develops.  The fact that I didn’t get the whole things figured out is a mark not of my indecision, as it would usually be, but of how much other stuff I had on my cognitive plate.

I also finally sat down to read Atlas Shrugged, as part of a self-flagellant act of intellectual honesty. I am inclined to make fun of the philosophy laid out in it, but I should actually read it if I’m to do so.  What I’ve learned so far is that this is going to be extremely hard sledding.  I’m on page 16, which given the tiny typeface involved means I’m about 75,000 words in.  It’s 1067 pages.  Eep.

Today’s pen: Pelikan Future
Today’s ink: Diamine Oxblood

*we’ve apparently set a record of an unofficial sort; the official snow measuring point in the city was shut down in 2007, but in a location of similar blusteriness, the count is up to 184 cm (18.1 hands, or roughly 1 klafter) .  Which is my own height.  The previous, official and apparently now unbreakable record was 171 cm from the winter of 1956-’57.

6 Responses to “The Lost Weekend”

  1. AndrewMB said

    Atlas Shrugged…gag me with a chain saw. I read that tripe long ago when I thought it might be interesting, but even for a 20 year old mind it is brain cringing slop. Good Luck. (At this point in my life I usually judge if I should read something by whether it’s worth the eyeball power expended to complete the task. Thumbs down in this case. It would be like asking me to read S. Harper’s little blue book, or some inane thing like that.)

  2. […] the moment, though, I press on.  There was a bit, somewhat connected to the lost weekend, when gloom threatened to engulf me.  The one bit of pennery I thought I had time for, an attempt […]

  3. […] make one more choice public in a couple of tenses.  I was not able to finish Atlas Shrugged on my last attempt upon it (page 99 and I flung it down, based entirely on the writing as the philosophy had yet to […]

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