Got an address book for Kindle and discovered I could import all my Yahoo contacts without having to retype anything. Very cool!
So I'm listening to holiday music and cleaning up my Contacts in Kindle, deleting the deceased, and I'm struck by how many of them there are and by the complete illogical non-sense of my being alive and all those others being dead, especially those with a more healthy lifestyle than I've had over the years. The marathon runner drops dead at 40 and the fat slob on the couch lives to 80 -- you can't figure it out.
I've been living what Raymond Carver called "gravy years" for some time now, a gift from the gods for reasons beyond me, but I surely am making good use of the gift. I've written some good stuff. And I am enjoying myself without worrying about much. As I told my doctor, I'd rather live five years less eating scrapple for breakfast than living longer by restricting myself to a healthier diet. I figure, you can't figure it out anyway so why waste time worrying about it? What happens happens.
I just hope, now, the gods continue to grant me good fortune until I finish the project at hand. And I hope it's my last project about which I say that. I don't want to push my luck more than I already have. After this project, I hope to enjoy teaching, still, but relax with the work and become a consumer/reader/listener more than a creator. My archive is too damn large as it is ha ha.
But this one I'm working on, it's very special to me, and maybe to an audience of a dozen if I'm lucky. I obviously want (and expect) to finish it.
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