If I had known that I was going to be writing something this long, I might as well have done the NaNoWriMo thing. No plot, no problem. It certainly meets that criterion.
It has sometimes worried me that almost nothing I have ever written has an actual plot. I have wanted to be something other than an essayist, but the essay has turned out to be my form. Rather than seeing stories, driven by action and character, my mind perceives underlying themes connecting an otherwise unrelated series of events. It makes for a sort of narrative essay form, which I have always found rather odd.
Ah, well. I suppose that one simply does what one can do. I can make elaborate sentences, and describe weather. Too bad there isn't a market for it.
By the way: my recreational break for the last couple of nights has been this photo gallery of the streets of San Francisco's most densely populated neighborhood, which the site is calling The Tendernob. A pleasant diversion, for those who enjoy the urban scene.