Wednesday, February 14, 2007

Time

During my twenties and early thirties, I used to compare what I had or hadn't accomplished to various cultural heroes. The most prescient one was Richard Foreman who hadn't done any of his really wild way out stuff until his thirties. But, yesterday I read the introduction to the Portable Jack London. The man was by definition prolific, and died at the age of 40. He had written his great novels in his early twenties. A strict disciplinarian, he wrote at least 1000 words a day, and traversed the globe. All this before his death at the age of 40.

I need to start working at the things that matter most to me as if I might have as much or maybe even less time that London did. I hope to have a nice long healthy life, but thinking of his life maybe me realize just how much of mine I am wasting watching TV and/or any other such distracting nonsense that I allow to obstacles to my most passionately felt goals. I need to work. I need to work!

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