It’s my party and I’ll cry if I want to.
I'm writing a commentary on a short poem of Dickinson's but I'm getting twisted in knots trying to organize the multiple layers of meaning. I should have started in a more orderly fashion. Oh well.
The other thing I could be doing - really, should be doing - is reading a ton more Plato and getting a grip on how the whole corpus fits together. Exciting, I know.
I’m not entirely sure why, but I love this A LOT.