Rather than slog through these last 56 days with nothing to be proud of, I’m going to take a purposeful break. I will be back for the last eight weeks on February 22.

But come on!

I’m certain most of these 61 are robots or otherwise non-human subscribers, but I don’t think that of all of you.  If you wouldn’t mind linking through to this post to say hello I’d appreciate the opportunity to acknowledge you and thank you for reading 1000 Days.

Douglas

I wanted to make sure the things I’ve written that people were reading made it out here.

There are not any surprises in here.  Most of these are also linked to the websites of the pictures or paintings which encouraged my writing, so the high readership of each results from others’ popularity not my own.

Most of the stuff I’ve written each day of the last week is unpostable but not all of it.  I’ll get that which isn’t up soon.  You’ll be getting a real post for today as well–not just this filler.

If you asked me why I posted so many rough lines my excuse would be that I’m not trying to do anything but write daily. Everything else I do well is just gravy and accidental. Unfortunately, that response would be both a lie and not a very good idea. I do try to do more than write daily; I should try to do more.

Initially 1000 Days existed as a Word document. Early on, friends encouraged me to create a blog so I could share what I wrote with them. I did, but I don’t think most of those folks read 1000 Days any more, so the panopticon effect I might have enjoyed in the first few months is long gone. I’m the only one watching over me now—which is fine, but doesn’t require a public blog. I had hoped daily posts might attract random followers willing to put up with my speculative brain spasms. There must be some secret to gaining such readers because my stats over the years show less than five hits a day on average—Hello there, robots! I do get occasional real-people bumps but not sticky ones. Really the only reason not to revert to a Word document is the convenient database of posts and the off-site storage of my work.

Work which I’ve just declared unprofessional.

I’m leading to the possibility I take 1000 Days off the daily posting schedule. That I still write daily, but that I only post the good stuff. The edited stuff. The thought out and crafted stuff. The professional stuff.

Cicadas bunch in groups around the backyard with a loner nearby and a squak of crickets around the corner. Out front some jackass on a motorcycle revs by the house. Doesn’t she know kids are in bed?

Fucking mosquitos have found veins close to the surface near my ankles and face. A good scrape with my overgrown finger nails does the trick till it doesn’t and a second one does. Some how that scratching wells up a sneeze.

Fireflies rise up like sparks over the neighbor’s fence with the campfire smell of a recently cooked grill. A pair of inexplicable summer cousins commingling for effect.

hand held; thumb written

These three things combine occasionally to brush past me like a work friend on her way to get coffee or lunch.  We pause to chat then get back to whatever we were up to before crossing paths.

Today she passed me again.  A thought I had the first time but didn’t mention rose to mind again this time, so I’m mentioning it now.

In recent years I’ve been reading maybe three books a year, because I just need the time.  I’m not like some of these monsters that crank out a couple books a month.  At 39 a 230 pound non-smoker doesn’t have alot of good years past 80, so that leaves me 41 years of book reading available.

2 * 41 = 82

I have at best less than one hundred books I can read before I die.  No shit, that scares me too.

I should have a plan to remedy this.  A few things that come to mind:

• Lose weight
• Read shorter books
• Kill the TV
• Kill the Internet
• Read faster
• Live longer
• Audio books (do those count as read?)

That’s about it.

How many books do you have left to read before you die?

Or was.

If you don’t see something here later today or tonight then I am indeed a slacking bastard and should be taken to task for it.

I extended the inspiration of that cloth covered bowl I mentioned a week back to include a fun new fantastical garment.  Maybe I’ll do that.

This doesn’t count.