Rasumovsky

Listening to Beethoven's "Rasumovsky" string quartet. The adagio is maybe the most beautiful piece of music I've ever heard. My iPod was on shuffle when it came up, but the moment it started I felt rooted to my spot, unable to move for the entire 21 minutes.

Why am I in a period of experiencing great art and wondering why I am even trying? First "Lolita" (which I finished this morning) and now this. Oh, and the 25th anniversary of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame the other night. Oh, and listening to a radio interview with Twyla Tharp about her new book. Sometimes I wish I were a little more open to mainstream pop culture and could just bury myself in some reality TV for the rest of the day.

I know I am doing this for the pleasure of doing it, but I'm at a weird plot point in the short story I'm writing and I feel like I can't do anything else until I figure out what Danny is going to do. I'm not sure that he knows himself yet. So this doesn't feel very pleasurable at the moment.

My brightspot -- I have my "Write Time" group tomorrow. I've grown so fond of this group. Just in the last two months we have hit our stride. We meet two Thursdays a month and just sit at a big square table and we each write on our own projects. We started working for an hour and now we are doing two hours. There is less and less chitchat everytime (even though I like the chitchat -- it's like we have a group seriousness that is overtaking everything). It is so wonderful. I know the time will fly by and that I'll get more than a thousand words done and maybe I will even discover what Danny has in mind.

And then I need to go to LA Mill. Danny and his friends to go have coffee at LA Mill and I can't quite remember what the menu and the equipment on the counter looks like. Last night it seemed absolutely essential that I tighten up these little details. The fact that I can get the best cup of coffee in Los Angeles is just a side benefit.