Yesterday I was up at 3:30, preparatory to catch a 6AM flight from Newark airport to Austin, Texas.
A bunch of people flew down a day earlier, but my natural, and I'm afraid, increasing diffidence held me back in New York. I had work I wanted to do. Besides, I'm not much good in large groups. I'm like a flounder in the desert when it comes to socializing. And, to be honest, while I like--very much in some cases--and respect the people I work with, I'm smack in the middle of one of the best books I've ever read, and I need that reading time at the end of the day to cleanse my brain and re-orient myself.
I guess if you get down to it, it seems to me that as the world has grown increasingly noisy, I have the increasing need for quiet. That is, time for me to think, read, and think some more.
My need for quiet--my insistence on it, really, is one of the reasons I've been able to keep up this blog as inveterately as I have.
I need that time, quiet time, to be alone with my thoughts.
I suppose this is an apology of sorts.
I'm sorry I came late and went upstairs to read early. I probably should have taken in more of the city, listened to live music, had another drink, maybe learned to dance or ride a mechanical bull.
I feel guilty that I can't bring myself to do those things.
I guess I just like quiet more.