Tuesday, November 9, 2010


It occurs to me that the reason it is so easy to see the errors of public policy and remain preoccupied with it is because I find it difficult to implement logical, principled solutions in my own life. Not that I am wrong on my view of government and all those things.

But it does get boring, but it is mainly somewhat of a conflict that I do not govern myself with near the same reason I suggest for the larger picture. I think it is some form of transference.

There is a balance between standing by while bullies take over the neighborhood, and avoiding one's own personal responsibilities by focussing only on the bad guy situation. Especially since for the moment, it is more of a threat to those who are ignoring it than it is to me. My threat is from myself.

I let a local friend who is unlikely to BS read the first thirty some pages of the book. Then I let it go, never asking for an opinion. He'd been curious to read it when he heard I was in the midst of writing a story. Today he called to tell me how much he likes it and why he likes the main character etc. It was quite a nice encouragement.

It will be swell if anyone likes it. The big thing is to finish it. I have almost 60 pages now. Quite a few characters have shown up, but not too many main players. It won't be what some consider exquisite literature. I'm not always taken with that stuff myself. Not sure how, in light of some stuff that has a haughty place of reverence how some of the more readable people ever got any acclaim. Maybe because Hemingway or Mark Twain would have kicked their butts if they gave them trouble. I personally like Isabel Allende as well as any, from what I know of her.

Not much in the way of writing two pages about a leaf swirling in a mud puddle though. I hope it gets put out there so people who see themselves in it will sue me.

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Ballistic Mountain, CA, United States
Like spring on a summer's day


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