A heavy dose of caffeine: I will awaken you, writer. Five hours of work yesterday, but today? An empty path widens and becomes the desert. You will not cross, it says. Nothing is possible today, it says.
I set myself the long task of copying out. The whole chapter – copy it out, and divide it into small paragraphs so you can learn how it progresses, of its internal logic, its coherence. Very well then.
Hours pass; I have written a great deal. Not my words, but plenty of them. In a feeble way, I feel myself borne onwards by the rhythm of those words, by their pressure. But they only push forward the dross of my day, my terminal moraine.
Lars Iyer's Blog 