Last night, I mailed my revised hipster chapter to my dissertation advisors and to some other people I thought might be interested in reading it.  Today, I’ve been feeling intellectually lazy and hung over.

I’m cleansing the mental palate by reading Charles Johnson’s 1999 novel, Dreamer, a fictionalized rendition of the last two years of Martin Luther King’s life as told by one of his young associates.  It’s a quick read and an excellent novel, and it’s inspiring me to dive back into fiction-writing, which I’ve neglected doing for a while.

I’m teaching a creative writing course for Stanford’s EPGY program in Singapore for two weeks, starting next week, so I’ll probably use my spare time after class to work on my novel-in-progress, Hamsterstan.  I’ve written about 13,000 of an anticipated 90,000 words.  It’s funny to think that I take a vacation from writing… by writing.  But that’s the shape of my life at the moment.  I can’t complain.