Sunday, October 26, 2003
Mashed Potatos
I ate a lot of mashed potatos the other night. I mean a lot.
The problem with favors is when the one who asks is disappointed with the result. And that really sums up my struggle for tomorrow, which is otherwise stated as -- how do I put a positive spin on a book I couldn't . . . promote. Just like I couldn't finish that sentence. This book, buried in it somewhere, had heart. I think. More accurately: I hope. What I worry about is that I may want it to have heart more than it actually does.
And now I have to advise the author on how to fix things . . . when I'm not sure I'd take the time myself. No. I know I wouldn't. Would he even? So is it worth my time? Either of our time? Ah, fuck it. It's done now. Maybe I'll say something that will spark a change, and then his book will get published before anything I spew sees light. That would be something, anyway.
I ate a hell of a big breakfast this morning. Brunch really. It was big.
And this -- reviewing work -- is supposed to be my job. Part of it, anyway. So I should be taking this better. Then again, I could think of a hell of a lot of things I could be doing better right now, like, school, job, what is beneath me right now, etc.
My wife is gone for the next few days. I know this kind of thing gets cheesy on diaries, logs and the type. But I do miss her greatly.
The problem with favors is when the one who asks is disappointed with the result. And that really sums up my struggle for tomorrow, which is otherwise stated as -- how do I put a positive spin on a book I couldn't . . . promote. Just like I couldn't finish that sentence. This book, buried in it somewhere, had heart. I think. More accurately: I hope. What I worry about is that I may want it to have heart more than it actually does.
And now I have to advise the author on how to fix things . . . when I'm not sure I'd take the time myself. No. I know I wouldn't. Would he even? So is it worth my time? Either of our time? Ah, fuck it. It's done now. Maybe I'll say something that will spark a change, and then his book will get published before anything I spew sees light. That would be something, anyway.
I ate a hell of a big breakfast this morning. Brunch really. It was big.
And this -- reviewing work -- is supposed to be my job. Part of it, anyway. So I should be taking this better. Then again, I could think of a hell of a lot of things I could be doing better right now, like, school, job, what is beneath me right now, etc.
My wife is gone for the next few days. I know this kind of thing gets cheesy on diaries, logs and the type. But I do miss her greatly.
