Continue. Walk through the damp gray air. It's not overly cold; it's a pleasure.
Quota has been raised to a thousand words daily. Occasionally I recall that at some point I'm supposed to move to California and restart an academic career, but this knowledge is usually eclipsed by the incidentals. I would really be a happy monkey if I could finish this bastard by July.
Video card has been brought back to life. Tentatively. But the new Hammond organ emulator I got is crashing my laptop, which is tragic, because it sounds so cool for the thirty seconds or so before it dies. Time to wipe and reformat again, I suppose; maybe try a different operating system. Maybe sell everything and record twelve songs with just a ukelele.