17 July 2003 - 1:12 a.m.
From Virginia Woolf's diaries:
11 July 1937: "A gap: not in life, but in comment. I have been in full flood every morning with 3 Gs. Whether I shall finish by August becomes doubtful. But I am in the middle of my magic bubble. Had I time I wd, like to describe the curious glance of the world - the pale disillusioned world - that I get so violently now & then, when the wall thins - either I'm tired or interrupted."
7 July 1938: "Oh the appalling grind of getting back to Roger, after these violent oscillations: 3 Gs. & P.H. How can I concentrate upon minute facts in letters? This morning I have forced myself back to Failand in 1888. But Gumbo [Marjorie Strachey] last night threw cold water on the whole idea of biography of those who have no lives."
28 July 1939: "I have composed myself, momentarily, by reading through this years diary. Thats a use for it then. It composes. Why? I think shows one a stretch, when one's grubbing in an inch."
5 July 1940: "I forgot to record my idiotic anguish. . ."
What with houseguests arriving soon and deadlines looming right behind them - and the yearning to put in some solid reading time has intensified (I'm fed up with feeling so surface-y about everything I'm trying to absorb -- and I'm sure all y'all are tired of me complaining about feeling tired. . .), the time for this year's hiatus has clearly arrived.
Thank you for reading these blitherings, and do please check back around 1 September if you feel so inclined. Warm wishes for a happy Midsummer to you all.
Almost a year ago: ""You could stay until I'm done...?"
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