it is a bit difficult to just jump into it. just write. lately, it either too late or i am too tired, or god knows what. there is never enough time, there is never enough strength. i mean, how could i start discussing a book at midnight, knowing that i will need the sleep in order to get through tomorrow? not that easy…?

and when you think of something else to do, like messing around with your foobar, installing some new components, make another wordpress account so that you can give it away to those you think would like/want to read what you write… when you have enough time and sinew.

it’s a pity! perhaps, better off, a stupidity: i realize every day, when i get home and browse the web a bit, eat something and, now and then, run around a couple of blocks for half an hour, that without writing (and reading, actually) i feel so empty. my world becomes a puny world, lacking on possibilities, on directions, on diversity. yuck! don’t like it! yes, i can say that i see many paintings every day and i learn new names and i find out more or less interesting things about them, that i give my brain a spin while teaching romanian, etc. etc. but the world, my world, is not going to grow any bigger only with that. i did not write a story in such a long time, i did not write an essay… not even a meaningful email!

and still, there are flashes going through my head whenever i “see” something. it would be nice to write the stories i hear from k, or what i think about the newspaper sellers at the stephansplatz, or about some of the people i have to deal with, teaching or talking to them in the gallery…