Lost Weekend
Too many words.I was watching Lost Weekend. Don Birnam drinks the shot that starts his bender, and is transfixed by the wet circle on the bar.“Don't wipe it away, Nat. Let me have my little vicious circle. You know, the circle is the perfect geometric figure. No end, no beginning.”
I felt that way this weekend. I worked yesterday on one paper, which is now at about six pages. Dense theoretical stuff. I love it, but I hate it. It can take hours to construct a single paragraph; that is, if you care about it being right.
Today was more of a sprint. Up at seven AM, and writing until now. Different paper.
It’s on Defoe’s Journal of a Plague Year. I left out most of the theory I really could have used to attack another scholar. Instead, I just positioned the text within a few other concepts. Twenty-two pages, mostly composed in one day. Over 6,000 words. I already hate it. I feel like I’m just talking in circles. I need a drink.
But I can’t have one. It’s up early tomorrow morning to teach, and then perhaps I’ll take another editing run at this monstrosity. But I suppose I should just let it lie, and concentrate on the other one. I don’t know why I’m so attached to my little vicious circle.
This damn academic bender is going on its sixth year. I wonder if there is a 12 step program for frustrated academics? Yeah, I know, it’s business. The money is better, and the circles are bigger. But damn it, I like my little circle.
