Ah so the materialistic part of me has risen to the surface. I normally try to suppress it, but what's the harm in letting it run the show? In other words, I got a smartphone and have spent the past 24 hours fiddling with it, which has effectively distracted me from basically everything else. Totally the opposite of last Saturday, which I spent interacting with real live people. Before I got the new phone, I was well and truly set on an emotional path to depression (thanks to last Saturday); my self-worth had plummeted so far that I moaned to my sister that I didn't need to go to the phone store because I didn't deserve a new phone. Oh the look she gave me. Disdain. Nothing like a sister to immediately illuminate out how stupid you are, both to yourself and to everyone else. It's a natural gift.
Still drowning myself in fiction, but this time in short story collections. Since about 2010, I have been fed up with the short story. I needed the commitment of a novel. I don't know what suddenly changed, but now I'm reading short story collections that revolve around the same type of character. Some beautiful writing has been published. I should have known Bud wasn't the one for me when he said that David Foster Wallace was a genius who'd wasted his genius on writing fiction. Talk about a warning sign.
When did phones become computers? My eyes are tired. I predict an increased number of eyestrain cases in the US in the next 10 years. I should buy stock in vision correction.
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