The Broad Superficiality of Everyday Life

Some days the broad superficiality of everyday life gets to me.  Other days, it feels just right, fine, or even peachy keen.  Today, I’m undecided.  It’s such a chore to start days looking for meaning.  Unencumbered by religion, involvement in local whatever, cut off from institutions, unhindered by a catechism, afloat like Pi with a Bengal tiger, I just weather the storm and look for safe harbor on an island that is not carnivorous.

The thing is: I’m between projects, by design and intention, and with my mind and spirit free, it’s a long rope lassoing the air, no object in sight to fasten onto or stay put.

The things artists must do.

I completed my first piece on the Tuskegee Airmen.  It may run soon.  It should be worth exploring as a book.

The contract for my book on Non Resident Indians?  In the mail?  On its way?  Anyhow, that project will start soon and appear as a book, I’m told, in 2014 in India.

Staggered by the ferocity of the book on the race wars, I read Nicholas Lander on restaurants instead, and think of ways to pan sear hirame.  Thanks to Dave Pasternack, I understand fish better than ever.

So is the fish a way towards meaning or is meaning a path towards fish?  Is Paris in France or is France in Paris?

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