Thursday
I did some more work on the new BBC.
I wrote the end of "Existence and Uniqueness"; I only have to write the second-to-last book now, book XI. I also added a few lines in other places and made some slight edits; I think I'll be able to finish the poem tomorrow.
I talked to a telemarketer for a full five minutes because I don't like to hang up on people. I tried to explain in detail why I don't want to subscribe to a daily newspaper, even one I like to read, because then I end up with another bill that I have to pay no matter what, regardless of whether I can afford it or whether I'm interested in the paper at that particular point. There is something to be said for impulse purchases, from the consumer's point of view, although perhaps not from the retailer's point of view.
I went in to the EFF.
I had a chiropractic appointment, and my wrists are very sore. I think that's temporary; I hope that's temporary.
The Name of the Rose by Umberto Eco is still one of the best books I have ever read.
I ended up going to Robyn's place to play Scrabble, which was lots of fun. This was a surprise, because I didn't even know that Robyn was back in the City yet. I guess summer has arrived, somehow, because all these people who said they'd be in San Francisco in the summer now actually are. Welcome back, Robyn!
