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I'll be interested to read your story whenever you have it ready.
I might take you up on that.
I'm wondering if writing only survives today if it can escape into the interwild fairly quickly.
Why do you think speed matters?
Because I like to think people will always have the appetite to read something old and timeless. I guess there's a chance that we as a species stop educating our children to appreciate these types of works; but even then, won't there still be the curious pupil who just has to know how things were and how people thought they're going to be?
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Maybe it is indicative of a loss of meaning of these other pastimes you mentioned. Or a forgetfulness of the virtue of boredom ("go be bored. You'll thank me later," said my father, many a time, to young billy). Or maybe the opposite, that these things now count as productive activities because there are even more-mind numbing things you could be doing.
Some good examples of perfectly normal things that fill the unproductive hours. Being bored spurrs us toward these things, or so thought the old man. I would tend to agree with him now. The definition of boredom, I fear, has shifted to, being totally and utterly saturated with brainrot slop that you have to puke or go wank it or touch grass, skinnydip in the crick, sun the boys etc etc....
I'm guilty of doing the same.
All the above and none. I want whatever it is to be completely new. An American novel that's not about America. The fictionalized story of my life, not billytheked, though he is definitely featured, long-winded but not long enough. It is trying to be a novel, whatever it is. And I am still enjoying writing it. I hope it gets published one day and I can send you a copy. I realized I had so many unfinished projects buried in the ideas graveyard, and I'd like to unite them all into something great. Wish me luck.