What happened to the mind I used to take pride in? The mind that could concentrate all day, all day on complex stuff in a complex world?
Lately, as part of a more general malaise, I’ve had the sense of being as able as ever, but vulnerable to softness, lassitude. In other words, I can concentrate and analyze and express as well as ever (of course that’s my judgment, who knows what outsiders see?), but after major effort, I drift off, seemingly sensibly but actually as if pre-programmed, drift off into the Twitter feed, the New York Times, the reviewing slate, the reading pile, and so on.
At least I can see the problem. And I can conjecture that what is needed is not restoration of faculties but some motivation, some aspect of my impelling philosophy. Let that be true, then: I’ll change myself and get back to normal.