Weariness & Don DeLillo

I have been weary a good amount lately. I've worked twenty-four straight days now, thanks to sweet intoxicating overtime pay, and each night I go to bed too late and get out of bed too early. It clouds the mind, such weariness. Hard to plan things. Ponder things. I'm tired as I sit here writing this, but yet I'd rather sit here and write this than go to bed early because I need something to have been accomplished in my free time, my "not at work time". At work all of us temp scorers drink copious amounts of coffee, soda, the strongest of teas. We eat sugary things, salty things, anything to keep us from keeling over into sweet, dreamless sleep. How do workaholics do this? Working must simply become your life until you can no longer remember it being any other way. What was that? I used to stay up late and write fiction, maybe have a few drinks, too? Write poetry? Post crazy blogs?

Also. Don DeLillo, author of the superb "White Noise" and the massive "Underworld", has a new book out called "Falling Man". The novel centers around a man who is estranged from his wife and child and, after surviving the fall of the World Trade Center towers, finds himself stumbling home to think everything over again. I've only read the first thirty pages, but I'll be surprised if "Falling Man" isn't a contender for the next Pulitzer Prize for fiction.

It's good.