19.11.10

Practice.

It's something I love and I hate. Mostly hate, but then again really love.

At the heart of it is a worry, deeper than my laziness, that is very well expressed at this point in this book. The crux of it is that practice may well be wasting time.

I worry about it all the time, if I'm any damn good at what I do. I write about it monotonously and I have fiction in my head with some very hard working but marginally talented individuals as the protagonists. I only wish I could have said all of the things I have said about that up until now as eloquently as Mr. Kurtz.

Moreover, i feel so much better that someone has admitted how fucking frightening it is to try to be great at something. What if you invest so much, but the capacity is missing. What then.

Thanks for making my day.

Update:


I have read more of his writing without knowing I did...here's one and two examples of essays at Huffpo that I know and noted before. Also, the section of his book I linked to is incorrect, it should be a few pages before, that part that made me so less lonely. I'm not sure how to get a permalink to point there, but if you could be so kind as to back up the preview a smidge - or better yet, but his book in the link provided directly after - it would mean oh so much to me. 


kt

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