Work - there's nothing to distract you. Work: but there's the whole weekend to distract me, hours in which nothing need happen; I've no appointments, but for all that time is too full, too present with itself. How is it that I seem to have fallen beneath its passing, that time, now, is only concerned with itself? Unwritten book, unwritten articles - now that unwriting has become active; it is the very work of time as it passes without me. [...]My day described by someone else in another country on the same day.
Work: there's nothing to distract you. Work - but nothing happens but distraction. All of time moves forward, but not here. Long sunday without monday. Day that cannot complete itself.
19 March 2006
The distraction of having no distractions
Spurious says it all: