The third: an afternoon of distance
An earlier finish in the space today because I’m heading back into the city for a party celebrating the successful kickstarter for OlioHouse (it’s not too late to contribute!)
In hindsight, though, I couldn't have planned it better - a few hours on the train thinking and writing provides the distance I need to zoom out and review the project as a whole.
Where yesterday I reached a point of humming with purpose (how many people that you know could tell you where and how they acquired the books in their possession?), today disharmony threatens to creep in.
I changed tack. Yesterday, I was recording the 'origin story' for a bunch of books that I deemed worthy enough to acquire but that I haven't read. There is some tone of hope here, a promise as yet unfulfilled, a sense of anticipation. There's also levity: these books turned my head, but I haven't yet made a move.
Today, worried about time, I started in on the piles of books that are 'marked' with inserts, by dog-ears, or by some weird hard-wired AR (when I see them, sentences from within practically inscribe themselves on the cover). These books I’ve definitely invested in, but so few of them I finished. Getting beyond page 40 seems a particular hurdle.
Much has been written about the guilt of not getting to the finish line, books having a time and place and all that. My own twopenneth is not necessary here. But observing this phenomenon in cold fact, I’m reminded of the reason for dreaming up this project in the first place: I’m not done.
