In the middle of too many projects. Work projects, personal projects, web projects, textile projects, reading projects. Everything is – or rather has become – a project, mostly because I am too lazy to try to think of another way of thinking about things. So I am left with these projects, which given my laziness I am unlikely to complete – or at least unlikely to complete in any span of time which might sustain the illusion that the set of discrete actions which I have embarked upon (reading a page, knitting a row) form a coherent, intentional whole.
I am left, then, with partial projects; or rather, the never to be entirely completed parts of an idea that was itself never fully formed. If it were not so distracting, it would almost be satisfying.1
- The initial image is one of Henry Fuseli’s sketches, which I found when I was looking for something else. [↩]