when I look back at it later, it makes me sad and disappointed in
myself. But these are OK feelings to have, and if I'm genuinely
experiencing them then I out to be able to write about that too,
that's what I figure.
Reading is, like, what I grew up on instead of milk toast. At this
point although I am "in the middle of" a dozen or more readily
identifiable books I'm not sure which ones I will actually finish any
time soon... items have been known to sit on my reading list (which
occupies, in its physical form, most of an end-table, and spraws out
across my electric organ) for a good half-year.
In fact if I was thinking about things that I "ought to read", they
might well be mathematical papers or academic texts one might find at
the library (or more likely online at this point). However, I don't
know if I think about what I "ought to do" very much. Rather I'm a
very "interdisciplinary" person who thinks about whatever, whenever,
however (whether convenient or not).
As for doing: it isn't, at least these days, very academic... but
whatever it is I hope it isn't "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest"; that
would be pretty chilling and disturbing. (But then again, I've only
seen the movie.)
I like thinking about morals (I tend to call them "heuristics", but it
is just about the same things), but I'm not a religious person.
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