Wednesday, November 30, 2011

I Came Upon A Friable Rock


The attempt at serious writing in a new journal is not proceeding well. When I was young, flocks of serious thoughts flitted into (and out of) my conscious mind faster than I could hope to handle them. But now that I (an old man) have the leisure to examine them, not a single serious thought lingers long enough to be analyzed... not a thought that has not been tackled time and time again by both thinkers and writers of sizable celebrity.

Who am I?

I intend to persevere, but I realize, with some sadness, that it might take me a bit longer to get started than I expected. For I find myself, at an unexpectedly advanced age, treading cautiously on exceedingly friable ground.

easily crumbled or reduced to powder; crumbly: friable rock.


Life, it appears, is quite friable.


I would write ads for deodorants or labels for catsup bottles if I had to.
--John Updike
(From a 1967 Paris Review interview)


  1. Dear Gene,

    Perhaps your insistence on analysis -- and more than that, your caution (fear?) -- will win again and so prevent you from your goal.

    Nothing wrong with analysis or caution, but either one can break a writer's back (my own back is fractured many times over).

  2. Thank you for reading my current entry and for the insightful comment, Anthony. I suspect that you are correct regarding analysis and fear. You have given me something to think about... thanks again.