Certain things are wrapping up now (in May).
- The court case.
- The unsent letters--the conversation with the memory of Denise--the present, thankfully, crowding out the past.
- Libby's school year.
- My dreams seem to be building to a climax
- Reclaiming my complete self
Is that enough denouement to satisfy The Reader?
Certain things are taking over.
- Alcatel Lucent -- implicitly. My job too boring to be too explicit.
- loneliness
- what I label it my fugue life--indulging in a fantasy search for a new woman/ mate/ partner/ companion
Does my loneliness and fugue state give the lie to "reclaiming my complete self?" Particularly that word "complete?" Or does it make it true?
Other things will start soon--the divorce and ultimately selling the house and moving. These won't be in the book.
Each day when I approach the draft I have to nourish my mood. My mood (motivation, energy) can collapse various ways:
- I start believing all my writing is shitty
- The content (anger at Denise, grieving Jack)
- And my own sense accomplishment, contribution. Like Maria Popova writes of Flannery O'Connor, I am afflicted with time.
- And then the just utter bullshit things like: is the stock market up or down? how is USA or Holland or CONCACAF doing in the World Cup?