one drawback to this diary as a novel-developing device is that it does nothing to encourage the long form. my wellhoned knack for truncation, for bringing the jam to a close at the first hint of wankery, needs no reinforcement.

the big question remains: can I sustain it? will i ever see the promise land i can only reach by pressing on, by persisting through unrewarding thickets of verbiage. no need to stop catching snatches of speech verbatim from the air, no need to curtail the urge to riff to improvise in live conversation. but dare, still to court the composer's muse. the truth is, i have to dive much deeper than i have so far.

x

overheard crying retarded person being shushed by mom: over and over, "it's not no store!"