Writing is a funny thing, and pleasure is a funny thing.
Eating is a pleasure, but after the first bite, you usually talk or read or gape at the TV the whole time you're doing it and the food is gone before you know it.
Vacations slip through the hourglass faster than Sunday mornings.
Songs you fall in love with become tiresome.
When I was 19, my boss told me that at his age, the most pleasurable part of his day was taking a good crap. He was in his early 30s.
I would tell you that long-distance motorcycling is a pleasure, except most of the time you are cold or bored or hungry or mad at a bug that slammed into your cheek or your ass hurts.
Writing?
The only pleasure in writing is when someone smart says you've written something smart, someone honest says you've written something honest, someone funny says you've written something funny, and someone sensitive thanks you for writing something sensitive.
And you go back and you reread your piece through that person's eyes.
And you see where they're coming from, by gum: You are smart, honest, funny and sensitive.
For once!
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