I got my eyes fixed a couple months ago and my rational went like this: I've got maybe ten years left of productivity—if I'm lucky!—and I want to finally create the graphic novel I have been trying to do all my adult life. And, I know I am closer to the end than I am to the beginning.
Daily Whip Out: "Into The Valley of The Long Shadows"
At this point of my life, when I look for guidance from those ahead of me on the trail, it is sobering:
Recalling 50 Years As A Writer
"Exhilaration and groaning. Frustration and freedom, Inspiration and uncertainty. Abundance and emptiness. Blazing forth and muddling through. . .this day-by-day oscillating dualities that any talent withstands." Then, "Every talent has its terms—its nature, its scope, its force; also its term, a tenure, a life span—not everyone can be fruitful forever."
"I am grown old and my memory is not as active as it used to be. When I was younger I could remember anything, whether it had happened or not; but my faculties are decaying now and soon I shall be so I cannot remember any but the things that never happened. It is sad to go to pieces like this but we all have to do it."
Not over yet, Boze.ReplyDelete