A strange relationship with rainy mornings: I love them because it means I get to work in the darkness for longer, before the sun invades and brings with it external duties and calls upon my time and waning mental capacites; I loathe them because it means that, if it’s a cold rain – I’ve run in blizzards and I run in warm rain, but I refuse to run outdoors in cold rain – I’ll be doing the daily run on the elliptical – but at least I’ll get to finish up THE RIPPER on Netflix (worth a watch, BTW: even though it’s essentially a survey course in the 1970s-80s Ripper killings in England, it’s nonethless an engrossing survey course).

Back and forth on weekly Informalities return: while I’m fine with – and enjoy – writing and giving these picayunities and the newsletter (though that price is an email address) away for free, my tolerance of doing the same on longer-form non-fictions is way past the wane. However, see 12mar post re: pitching and utter blankness. Can’t deny a feeling of spinning my wheels on the weekly end, but IDK. I’ll figure it, or something, out.

Looks like there will be two Socialized Recluse episodes this month. I’d love an assistant for the six days a year that the 359 days of the year bear fruit but alas; at least it’s a way to put those former-executive-director skills to use in a world passing by – nevermind that being busy with the propagation of personal and professional forward motion is so much sweeter than the stagnant alternative (see above paragraph re: essays).

Back to work.