The old mind-body problem, namely the problem of keeping aloft an agile mind in a constantly abused and all too fragile body, haunts Jack once again today. But not one of his more profound writings. Surely a man of his refinements can bring himself to find more to say about urban marine architecture and its discontents?
One worries that Clinomania is suffering from the strange disease of chroniclism that affects so many of our young writers. Merely annotating one's every action, every change of scenery, does not a true arc make. Consider: if the farmer, tilling the crude soil of New Hampshire, had used every stone he came upon in exactly that order to make his boundary wall, would that wall stand? No; it would crumble the first time a deer sat on it to eat his sandwich. We look to Jack to be careful, like the mason (and the Masons (wink)) and use only those stones that fit just right. Should he have a certain malformed stone or life-event, set it aside, for when it might later be useful. Our finest writers have a gift for carefully dolloping out time's passage, ladling carefully the events of their character's lives, rather than merely dumping the whole saucepot in front of hungering orphans.
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With any luck, regular readers of Somenotions may notice in the near future an added voice. Keep watch. . .