Sobriquet 46.16
Well, I still haven't got the internet at home, so I am accessing the web at the library. Despite the fact that I said I would not be writing something every day until I can solve this delightful little dilemma, I decided to try and get something down today. Basically, I don't want to use my lack of internet access as an excuse to be lazy. It's not like I have a whole lot to report since yesterday, though. I spent the vast majority of the time I should have been reading fixing my laptop so that I can at least have some way to get online when not at work. After all, I can't lug my desktop to a wifi hotspot at will. Despite my success is resurrecting my laptop, however, I regard yesterday as the shitty nadir of my week. Even my rise-from-the-dead Phoenix of a computer couldn't lift me out of the slough of non-productivity into which I had sunk. Although I had a full afternoon and evening to work, I found ways not to do anything. I slept, I found a Tim Hortons in Cortland, I exercised, I fixed the aforementioned laptop, I chatted with a neighbor, I made plans to see a friend later this week, I listened to some old Bad Brains songs. I just didn't get my reading done. Finally, when I realized that I could not possibly make sense of the article I was trying to read at nearly four in the morning, I decided to read another of Coetzee's essays in Inner Workings. And, yeah, the author's comments on Hugo Claus actually proved to be quite enlightening, so the day was not wasted and I did get my "read an essay" assignment done, but it sure as hell didn't feel like a good day.
For tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow: Keep it up. Read another essay or part of Brink's novel.
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