Procrastination | P*ss or Get Off the Pot

I have left UNSW for the rest of the year (and my fallback is they’d take me back after six months if things go to total pot) so it means that I am a free floating ameoba; faffing about in the ether and contributing very little to society as a whole.

I signalled my intent to ‘do’ something to Ronald this morning because he makes me extremely nervous when I compare his ‘downtime’ to mine. Case in point: he’s currently writing code and designing a better camera system for a penguin colony at Cape Crozier while I cast about for my draft novel (that’s one word for it) with the intention of performing a surgical amount of restructuring before Knopf comes a-knocking. I also have a sewing project to make clutch bags out of velvet and silk. Don’t ask me how but it sounds fabulous and YouTube will be my guide.

Which means I’m now perusing New Zealand real estate and listening to a podcast.

At least I’m sitting at the work desk so there’s progress. And on my walk earlier I’ve ruminated on my intention to shift the tone of the draft entirely and focus on the most obvious theme that I’m trying to get across: power and control. And all this before midday!

I also have an eye-watering tax bill to pay and that’s kinda shitting me to tears and taking my mind off the tasks to hand. And the idea of actually tracking down my draft to start the very necessary re-reading and writing fills me with existential dread.

And something that’s relevant to the recent post about AI, I think about writers like Charmian Clift and the agonies she went through to pull together her weekly column in the SMH and how AI may have been a total boon for her mental health AND assisted with column inches. That AI shit is so good no one would know if you did or didn’t write the articles unless you referenced it.

(Side question: do you think AI is writing this drivel..?)