You know, I'm doing all of this, and not really letting more congenial circumstances allow me to fall into self-expression, as though I am ambivalent about whether further self-expressive effort has further point.
But I still teach and write reasonably well, by reports.
I think I'm just coming to terms with mortality, its inexorable approach, and the unremitting acceleration, subjectively, with which it approaches.
Twenty years ago, for example, I was living in Hong Kong.
It seems about a week ago.
And ain't no actuary with even three cerebral wrinkles who'd give me 20 years of breathing from here.
And so I have to learn to stretch the actual, infinitesimal, and infinitively numerous passing moments of perception as far as they naturally go.
Which means basically to pay attention.
More than that, no can do.
Damn.