Let's see. It began by going to the laundromat this morning. The only appropriate thing to take with me to read there was a book that's long been in my to-be-read pile, but I really hadn't wanted to tackle it yet. It was "Writing Down the Bones" and the reason I didn't want to tackle it is I didn't want to be put in a position where I would be pushed into writing. Or urged into it. Or drawn into it. At this point, just writing in here is just about enough.
And I was right. I was pushed, I feel pulled, I feel torn...I spent some time sitting there, not reading. Then I spent some time thinking about the novel I started more years ago than I care to think about--and here I was, thinking about it. It has a male protagonist, but there's also a woman in whose point of view I have written a couple of scenes already and there's the question of whether or not to make it her book or let the book have two points of view...Argh!
And now, when I was about to start using this blog the way Steinbeck used his notebook and writing to his editor to help him to write East of Eden--the damn thing isn't on this computer. And the floppy disk that may or may not have it on there is for some strange reason unreadable by this computer. Which means that I have to fire up the old one and find that story and copy it over onto another floppy and hope for the best. I'm just too tired right now to go through all that, it takes easily 20 min. for the poor old thing to boot up. And I'm now hoping desperately that it does and that I can actually manage to retrieve this novel, because I really don't have to type the whole thing in again, assuming I can dig up the old copies. Not that that would be an entirely bad thing to do, I'd just rather...not.
It was a lovely day out today. "Out" being the operative word; it's still in the low 80s in this apt. Once the heat gets in, it's impossible to get it out. If I'm lucky, we'll have a couple of days more of a cold spell (50s would do just fine) and I can really cool the place off--and then hermetically seal it up, so the heat/humidity stays outside and I stay comfortable in here.
Fat chance.
Anyway, I did go out and my leg didn't hurt too much at all. Then I ran into an acquaintance, a FOAF, and rode the bus for a few stops with him. I'm not really sure, but it feels like he's flirting with me. But it could just be that I'm out of practice with all that, nobody really flirts with me anymore. I'm actually hoping he wasn't, since I also know his wife and, really, I've given up married men.
I'd been home for a little while when there was a knock on the door and the person on the other side of the door said he was the police. I figured he was here to ask about my neighbor's robbery and I was right about that. On my way to the door, I threw on a shirt I keep handy by the door for when I don't have time to rush and put on a bra, so I looked worse than usual. Oh, who am I kidding? There's no way a guy that good-looking would have been interested in me even if I had been wearing a bikini. Well, esp. not a bikini, actually, I'd look truly horrible in that.
Anyway, that's a long way of saying that this guy was Cute. Capital "C", oh, yes. In an Anderson Cooper sort of way, though not that chiseled. But the coloring, the self-assuredness, the light build, the eyes--oh, my, yes. Even a cute little mustache.
My libido ain't dead yet.
Amazing that I got any work done after that at all. But I did. A little.
On tap for tomorrow: changing the kitty litter. And who knows what else?
Wednesday, May 31, 2006
Tuesday, May 30, 2006
Peter Bogdanovich's cats
I think I might try writing a short story with that title. It would probably have little or nothing to do with his cats, but it's a pretty neat title, anyway.
But his cats were the least of my problems in the last couple of days. For starters, my mother is still not doing all that well. Of course, today my stepfather was supposed to call their primary doctor and see about getting her taken better care of, but I haven't heard yet how that went. I presume, since I haven't heard, that she's not back in the hospital, which is good, I suppose, although I liked how she was being taken care of, finally.
Anyway, yesterday I went to Macys and spent an inordinate amount of money on new panties. The sock selection was pathetic, so I may have to go to Target soon. I also still need a new pair of sandals, since my old ones finally gave up the ghost last summer. Hey, they were at least a decade old, so, again, I got my money's worth.
But while I was out, my upstairs neighbor's apartment was broken into. This was upsetting, in part because I'm not 100% sure that it was while I was out, though it's likely that I was. I (and my neighbor) both got precious little sleep last night, though I did manage to put four hours together, along with some pretty intense dreaming. One part included Patrick Stewart, can't complain about that. In the dream, I asked him if he'd heard his song and, when he said no, I made him give me his email address. He had to use a paper cup and I whipped out, what else, a purple pen for him to write with.
Then I was going on a cruise. There was a pre-boarding party the night before and there was a lot of food there, but I wasn't interested in any of it at first (despite the fact that I'd gone to bed feeling hungry, but not feeling like eating anything--or, rather, not feeling like making anything to eat). Then a conga line started and I was bemused/appalled and I berated the leader of the line, I think for being so prosaic and corny--and then I joined the line. After a bit of dancing about, suddenly the food being served looked really good and I tried to get some, but after some abortive attempts, with the food becoming more and more disgusting (sausages that had been dropped on the floor? Ugh!), I woke up... probably because the phone rang. It was sort of like how you're not supposed to dream your own death, you wake up first--this was like that.
I am not going to analyze this dream, you're all free to do, if you so choose. (All-ha! I think there's maybe one of you reading this, if that.)
Anyway, I should go out and buy some window alarms and perhaps finally replace the shade in the kitchen. Some more stuff to spend my pittance on, but it will be good to not be scared to come home when I know the house is empty or to go to sleep.
Perchance to dream. Of Peter Bogdanovich's cats.
But his cats were the least of my problems in the last couple of days. For starters, my mother is still not doing all that well. Of course, today my stepfather was supposed to call their primary doctor and see about getting her taken better care of, but I haven't heard yet how that went. I presume, since I haven't heard, that she's not back in the hospital, which is good, I suppose, although I liked how she was being taken care of, finally.
Anyway, yesterday I went to Macys and spent an inordinate amount of money on new panties. The sock selection was pathetic, so I may have to go to Target soon. I also still need a new pair of sandals, since my old ones finally gave up the ghost last summer. Hey, they were at least a decade old, so, again, I got my money's worth.
But while I was out, my upstairs neighbor's apartment was broken into. This was upsetting, in part because I'm not 100% sure that it was while I was out, though it's likely that I was. I (and my neighbor) both got precious little sleep last night, though I did manage to put four hours together, along with some pretty intense dreaming. One part included Patrick Stewart, can't complain about that. In the dream, I asked him if he'd heard his song and, when he said no, I made him give me his email address. He had to use a paper cup and I whipped out, what else, a purple pen for him to write with.
Then I was going on a cruise. There was a pre-boarding party the night before and there was a lot of food there, but I wasn't interested in any of it at first (despite the fact that I'd gone to bed feeling hungry, but not feeling like eating anything--or, rather, not feeling like making anything to eat). Then a conga line started and I was bemused/appalled and I berated the leader of the line, I think for being so prosaic and corny--and then I joined the line. After a bit of dancing about, suddenly the food being served looked really good and I tried to get some, but after some abortive attempts, with the food becoming more and more disgusting (sausages that had been dropped on the floor? Ugh!), I woke up... probably because the phone rang. It was sort of like how you're not supposed to dream your own death, you wake up first--this was like that.
I am not going to analyze this dream, you're all free to do, if you so choose. (All-ha! I think there's maybe one of you reading this, if that.)
Anyway, I should go out and buy some window alarms and perhaps finally replace the shade in the kitchen. Some more stuff to spend my pittance on, but it will be good to not be scared to come home when I know the house is empty or to go to sleep.
Perchance to dream. Of Peter Bogdanovich's cats.
Sunday, May 28, 2006
What I learned from poker
Maybe it was on some PSA that aired during a televised poker event or maybe it was on one of the online games where I saw this, but they say you shouldn't play/gamble when you're tired or depressed or drunk. Well, for the last few days, at least one of those kept me from posting here.
Give up? Okay, I was tired! More than that, exhausted. But that's why they call it chronic fatigue syndrome. It's the disability that keeps on ... taking.
Anyway, it wasn't just that I couldn't find the energy to write, it was that I didn't think I was capable of being coherent. This happens to me a lot. I'm on a bbs called Echo and I've learned, and sometimes even pay attention to the lessons, not to post on there when I'm worn out, because I end up posting stupid. Which is not to say that I'm not capable of that even when I'm not in a brain fog (my former doctor's term for this symptom), but it becomes much more likely that I'll log in the next day and think, "Why the freakin' hell did I post that?"
I don't think I've learned much else from poker, but then, this may well be one of those posts where I end up logging in tomorrow (or, y'know, whenever, I'm obviously no good at discipline) and thinking, "Why in the hell did I post that?"
But I did want to post, even though I'm still wiped out a bit. I got a lot of sleep last night, finally, but I'm still tired. And all I really want to do is go back to bed and curl up -- and watch TV. Which I can't do, because the TV is dead and I have no cable box and I miss it terribly. I keep looking for the time on the cable box and I have to stop myself from reaching for the headphones I used to listen on at night or reaching for the remote control. I've gotten a lot of reading done, but so far, that's about it. There's so much else to do around here and I'm still not doing it.
On the other hand, I'm getting good at finding torrents to download and watching those. It's just not all that comfortable sitting in this chair for so many hours. I of course keep getting up when I'm working, but when I'm watching something, I don't take breaks, really.
It seems like a nice day out there. I should go out later and get the Times. And milk. I was planning, or should I say "planning", to go to Macy's and get some undies and socks and things, but now I think that's going to be tomorrow. It's after 2 p.m. and I suppose I should have something for breakfast.
Yeah, it's one of those days.
Give up? Okay, I was tired! More than that, exhausted. But that's why they call it chronic fatigue syndrome. It's the disability that keeps on ... taking.
Anyway, it wasn't just that I couldn't find the energy to write, it was that I didn't think I was capable of being coherent. This happens to me a lot. I'm on a bbs called Echo and I've learned, and sometimes even pay attention to the lessons, not to post on there when I'm worn out, because I end up posting stupid. Which is not to say that I'm not capable of that even when I'm not in a brain fog (my former doctor's term for this symptom), but it becomes much more likely that I'll log in the next day and think, "Why the freakin' hell did I post that?"
I don't think I've learned much else from poker, but then, this may well be one of those posts where I end up logging in tomorrow (or, y'know, whenever, I'm obviously no good at discipline) and thinking, "Why in the hell did I post that?"
But I did want to post, even though I'm still wiped out a bit. I got a lot of sleep last night, finally, but I'm still tired. And all I really want to do is go back to bed and curl up -- and watch TV. Which I can't do, because the TV is dead and I have no cable box and I miss it terribly. I keep looking for the time on the cable box and I have to stop myself from reaching for the headphones I used to listen on at night or reaching for the remote control. I've gotten a lot of reading done, but so far, that's about it. There's so much else to do around here and I'm still not doing it.
On the other hand, I'm getting good at finding torrents to download and watching those. It's just not all that comfortable sitting in this chair for so many hours. I of course keep getting up when I'm working, but when I'm watching something, I don't take breaks, really.
It seems like a nice day out there. I should go out later and get the Times. And milk. I was planning, or should I say "planning", to go to Macy's and get some undies and socks and things, but now I think that's going to be tomorrow. It's after 2 p.m. and I suppose I should have something for breakfast.
Yeah, it's one of those days.
Saturday, May 20, 2006
Been a while
It's been five days since my last post and a lot has happened. Well, one big thing in particular. Watching my tape of the last episode of The West Wing was the last thing my TV allowed me to do before dying.
It had been a long time coming. I mean, the colors were getting...not weird, but extra saturated. There were times I'd turn it on and the colors weren't there at all, but all I had to do was turn it off, wait a few seconds and turn it back on again and they were back. There were other, little things. This all began at least three years ago, so I had hoped for a little while longer, but I've got no complaints--this Zenith was 15 years old! I got my money's worth, for sure.
The problem is, there's no way I can replace it right now. So yesterday, I turned in my cable box to Time Warner and will wait a while until I pay them what I owe and then figure out how much I am willing/able to go into debt for a new HDTV (because at this point, there ain't no point in anything else, even if you can find it for sale). It'll probably be another CRT, they're (a) cheaper and (b) nice and heavy and, if anyone is stupid enough to break in here again, it's not something they're going to carry out so easily. (Not the way the last person did, carting off my 10-plus-year-old b&w set with the broken antenna--he must have been really desperate! And I was grateful for the push to get a color TV.)
But I'm feeling quite bereft without the comfort of late-night TV. And silence while I'm eating is difficult to endure--I can't really read while I'm eating, so I just find myself eating faster with nothing to distract me. I am trying to pause and pick up a book in-between bites, but it's not working out so well. Getting more reading done is the only good thing about being TV-less.
Meanwhile, I'm still trying to figure out how to bittorrent (I'll let you know when I do, fed lurkers, sure I will). I miss HOUSE. I'm hoping not to miss THE 4400 when its new season starts.
I'm trying not to stress out over all the money people owe me that they don't seem to want to part with, but I'm looking at the calendar and when all my bills are due and serenity is not coming easily today. All I can do at this point is send emails and make phone calls and let it go. What will be, will be. The Universe will provide. It always has, if not in the way or time that I'd wish.
There, that's enough procrastinating. Get to work, Sharon!
It had been a long time coming. I mean, the colors were getting...not weird, but extra saturated. There were times I'd turn it on and the colors weren't there at all, but all I had to do was turn it off, wait a few seconds and turn it back on again and they were back. There were other, little things. This all began at least three years ago, so I had hoped for a little while longer, but I've got no complaints--this Zenith was 15 years old! I got my money's worth, for sure.
The problem is, there's no way I can replace it right now. So yesterday, I turned in my cable box to Time Warner and will wait a while until I pay them what I owe and then figure out how much I am willing/able to go into debt for a new HDTV (because at this point, there ain't no point in anything else, even if you can find it for sale). It'll probably be another CRT, they're (a) cheaper and (b) nice and heavy and, if anyone is stupid enough to break in here again, it's not something they're going to carry out so easily. (Not the way the last person did, carting off my 10-plus-year-old b&w set with the broken antenna--he must have been really desperate! And I was grateful for the push to get a color TV.)
But I'm feeling quite bereft without the comfort of late-night TV. And silence while I'm eating is difficult to endure--I can't really read while I'm eating, so I just find myself eating faster with nothing to distract me. I am trying to pause and pick up a book in-between bites, but it's not working out so well. Getting more reading done is the only good thing about being TV-less.
Meanwhile, I'm still trying to figure out how to bittorrent (I'll let you know when I do, fed lurkers, sure I will). I miss HOUSE. I'm hoping not to miss THE 4400 when its new season starts.
I'm trying not to stress out over all the money people owe me that they don't seem to want to part with, but I'm looking at the calendar and when all my bills are due and serenity is not coming easily today. All I can do at this point is send emails and make phone calls and let it go. What will be, will be. The Universe will provide. It always has, if not in the way or time that I'd wish.
There, that's enough procrastinating. Get to work, Sharon!
Monday, May 15, 2006
Flaking out
So, I guess I didn't come back to post after my birthday. It was very nice, really. I did everything I expected to and don't regret a single calorie!
Now part of me wishes I could stop celebrating. But the other part of me thinks that's ridiculous, why shouldn't I be celebrating my entire life? It just depends how you define "celebrating". It doesn't have to be birthday cake every day. (Not that that sounds bad, mind you. Just incredibly fattening and I don't need any help in that area, thanks.)
Anyway, I'm extra tired today. It may be the wet weather here--not as bad as New England, but it's damp, with more rain on the way. It may just be that I sat down this afternoon and watched the last episode, ever, of The West Wing. I cried the whole way through. From sadness and from frustration--I so very much wish there was going to be more next year. I want to see how Santos handles the presidency. There's so many possibilities for how things would be different, and yet still wonderful to watch. I feel robbed.
I called my mom today, a day late. I forgot yesterday. I thought about it at one point when I was out, but then when I got home, it never even crossed my mind again. Feh. Memory is so overrated. She didn't sound upset that I'd forgotten, she was more concerned about the fact that I sounded "down". Well, at the time, all I could really think of was that I was tired, I forgot about West Wing. When I remembered, though, I wasn't going to share that with her. Both because she's weird about my emotions, she tries to steal them (I'm not kidding) and because she's got enough stuff going on herself, I didn't want to add to it.
Well, I'm too tired to go into detail about all that, so I'll leave that for another day. Hopefully, tomorrow, but ya never know with me.
P.S. I think I've decided on someone else to invite in here. Don't know if he'll come, but at least I'll reach out.
Now part of me wishes I could stop celebrating. But the other part of me thinks that's ridiculous, why shouldn't I be celebrating my entire life? It just depends how you define "celebrating". It doesn't have to be birthday cake every day. (Not that that sounds bad, mind you. Just incredibly fattening and I don't need any help in that area, thanks.)
Anyway, I'm extra tired today. It may be the wet weather here--not as bad as New England, but it's damp, with more rain on the way. It may just be that I sat down this afternoon and watched the last episode, ever, of The West Wing. I cried the whole way through. From sadness and from frustration--I so very much wish there was going to be more next year. I want to see how Santos handles the presidency. There's so many possibilities for how things would be different, and yet still wonderful to watch. I feel robbed.
I called my mom today, a day late. I forgot yesterday. I thought about it at one point when I was out, but then when I got home, it never even crossed my mind again. Feh. Memory is so overrated. She didn't sound upset that I'd forgotten, she was more concerned about the fact that I sounded "down". Well, at the time, all I could really think of was that I was tired, I forgot about West Wing. When I remembered, though, I wasn't going to share that with her. Both because she's weird about my emotions, she tries to steal them (I'm not kidding) and because she's got enough stuff going on herself, I didn't want to add to it.
Well, I'm too tired to go into detail about all that, so I'll leave that for another day. Hopefully, tomorrow, but ya never know with me.
P.S. I think I've decided on someone else to invite in here. Don't know if he'll come, but at least I'll reach out.
Wednesday, May 10, 2006
My birthday
Today is my birthday. I have a pretty nice day planned out. I'm about to go have breakfast at one of my favorite diners, Dizzy's. Then I'll go donate blood (a tradition I started a few years ago). Later, a friend and I will go have dinner at another favorite restaurant, one that I haven't gotten to in a long while-Pete's Waterfront Alehouse, where I will probably have the pulled pork sandwich and come home with a bottle of Sam's excellent hot sauce.
I expect to eat too much and be pretty happy by the time I come home. I may post again later, but then again, maybe not.
I expect to eat too much and be pretty happy by the time I come home. I may post again later, but then again, maybe not.
Saturday, May 06, 2006
Things that piss me off
So I'm working on something having to do with what they're now calling "sustainability". A fine word, really. But when you're talking about large corporations finally getting on the bandwagon of becoming "environmentally correct", my blood just starts to boil.
Where the fuck were these people 30, 35 years ago, when environmental concerns first came into public consciousness? Okay, really, it started a decade before that, with Rachel Carson's Silent Spring, but things really got into full swing with Earth Day and things like that. And all the large corporations did back then was scream bloody murder if anyone so much as suggested that they try recycling. Or that they should consider reducing their waste. And this always struck me as the height of stupidity. Reusing, recycling, reducing waste--these are all things that would have SAVED THEM MONEY!!! Not only that, but there was an unbelievable amount of bellyaching about how much it would cost them to refit their machinery, their factories, etc. Meanwhile, all the time and money they spent lobbying Congress to keep our laws off their non-corporeal bodies could have been spent on making these changes and saving money for decades. Millions of dollars could have been saved in all this time, maybe even billions. Not to mention the amount of pollution that could have been avoided all these years, so that the climate changes we're seeing today could, in fact, have been at least pushed back another decade or more--precious time. Maybe we could have even figured out, in all those decades, how to avoid it altogether.
And I could never understand, still can't, why no one thought that designing and creating the tools we needed in order to improve the environment or at least damage it considerably less was a good business idea. That there was money to be made in the innovations such an industry today is engendering.
So, excuse me, please, if Iwant to barf when I hear about companies finally find religi--excuse me, sustainability. None of the things I hear about how sustainability makes sense is any more true today than it would have been in 1970. None of it.
At the same time, it also pisses me off that, when BP announced several years ago that its initials weren't going to stand for British Petroleum anymore, they would instead stand for Beyond Petroleum, the investment analysts promptly downgraded BP's stock--seriously impacting its ability to raise the funds needed in order to pursue such a farsighted goal. Not that I'm crying for BP at this point. But may every single oil analyst never get another night's rest--insomnia for all of them!
These days, I hear that bankers are asking companies to whom they lend if they have sustainability plans or programs. Ha! That's what's really going to drive this--if the money guys are concerned about this and think it's important, then it'll happen.
But, damn, I hope I don't catch any of these people crowing about how wonderful they are to do all this work. Because they could-a, would-a, should-a done it a very, very, very long time ago. And, today, they should be ashamed of themselves, not patting themselves on the back.
Where the fuck were these people 30, 35 years ago, when environmental concerns first came into public consciousness? Okay, really, it started a decade before that, with Rachel Carson's Silent Spring, but things really got into full swing with Earth Day and things like that. And all the large corporations did back then was scream bloody murder if anyone so much as suggested that they try recycling. Or that they should consider reducing their waste. And this always struck me as the height of stupidity. Reusing, recycling, reducing waste--these are all things that would have SAVED THEM MONEY!!! Not only that, but there was an unbelievable amount of bellyaching about how much it would cost them to refit their machinery, their factories, etc. Meanwhile, all the time and money they spent lobbying Congress to keep our laws off their non-corporeal bodies could have been spent on making these changes and saving money for decades. Millions of dollars could have been saved in all this time, maybe even billions. Not to mention the amount of pollution that could have been avoided all these years, so that the climate changes we're seeing today could, in fact, have been at least pushed back another decade or more--precious time. Maybe we could have even figured out, in all those decades, how to avoid it altogether.
And I could never understand, still can't, why no one thought that designing and creating the tools we needed in order to improve the environment or at least damage it considerably less was a good business idea. That there was money to be made in the innovations such an industry today is engendering.
So, excuse me, please, if Iwant to barf when I hear about companies finally find religi--excuse me, sustainability. None of the things I hear about how sustainability makes sense is any more true today than it would have been in 1970. None of it.
At the same time, it also pisses me off that, when BP announced several years ago that its initials weren't going to stand for British Petroleum anymore, they would instead stand for Beyond Petroleum, the investment analysts promptly downgraded BP's stock--seriously impacting its ability to raise the funds needed in order to pursue such a farsighted goal. Not that I'm crying for BP at this point. But may every single oil analyst never get another night's rest--insomnia for all of them!
These days, I hear that bankers are asking companies to whom they lend if they have sustainability plans or programs. Ha! That's what's really going to drive this--if the money guys are concerned about this and think it's important, then it'll happen.
But, damn, I hope I don't catch any of these people crowing about how wonderful they are to do all this work. Because they could-a, would-a, should-a done it a very, very, very long time ago. And, today, they should be ashamed of themselves, not patting themselves on the back.
Thursday, May 04, 2006
So, where was I?
Ah, yes, I was saying that I'm reading John Steinbeck's Journal of a Novel, written while he was writing my favorite book, East of Eden. I will have to reread that book once I'm done, keeping his comments while he was writing it at least somewhat in mind. I don't know if it's just that I missed things while reading it the first time or if it got changed a lot between the first draft and the published version (it was, but maybe not enough to make me miss so much). But I'm realizing how deliberate he was in writing it, how he made choices very, very consciously about how the book was to be framed and written, what the plot was going to be, who the characters were to be...what they were to represent...
I've never written that consciously. Almost everything I've ever written, including this post now, just spills out willy-nilly, so the form is ... well, formless. Or if there's a form, it's purely accidental. Maybe I should say "a form that works", because each of these posts has a form, of sorts. I guess.
Anyway, here I am, getting all meta again. But this is as it should be, if I'm to start writing again. I have been thinking about my novel again, it's the Steinbeck that's moving me in that direction. (I'm also reading two other books these days and they're not similarly inspiring me. But that's okay, they're fun.) (Did I mention somewhere what they are? I won't keep you guessing or trying to look somewhere else--it's Clark Clifford's memoirs and Time and Again, my 4th or 5th reading of that one.)
I don't know why I didn't realize until now that one of the reasons I haven't been writing for the last decade or so is fear. What's making me realize it now is that I've only invited one other person to read this blog so far (hi!) and can't decide who the second one should be. And it crossed my mind to mention it at my birthday dinner party next week--and that just made my stomach tie up in a nice, little knot with a bow in it. I guess I'm just going to have to bite the bullet and take the plunge--if you'll forgive the mixed metaphors.
I'm running out of steam here, it's been another long day. I didn't get outside of the building at all and it was a gorgeous spring day--but my allergies! Oh, man, this is the worst it's been and I know it's worse for others, as my symptoms--the sneezing and sniffling and itchy nose (not eyes, they're fine, go figure)--are really no worse than a medium cold, but I so rarely get that symptom that I have to assume others are truly miserable. And that's what I've been hearing. Of course, I do have extra fatigue and some lightheadedness tonight and those are my usual allergy symptoms.
I have to do the laundry tomorrow and I'm not looking forward to that. But having clean undies, etc., that I'm looking forward to.
More tomorrow. Or the next day.
I've never written that consciously. Almost everything I've ever written, including this post now, just spills out willy-nilly, so the form is ... well, formless. Or if there's a form, it's purely accidental. Maybe I should say "a form that works", because each of these posts has a form, of sorts. I guess.
Anyway, here I am, getting all meta again. But this is as it should be, if I'm to start writing again. I have been thinking about my novel again, it's the Steinbeck that's moving me in that direction. (I'm also reading two other books these days and they're not similarly inspiring me. But that's okay, they're fun.) (Did I mention somewhere what they are? I won't keep you guessing or trying to look somewhere else--it's Clark Clifford's memoirs and Time and Again, my 4th or 5th reading of that one.)
I don't know why I didn't realize until now that one of the reasons I haven't been writing for the last decade or so is fear. What's making me realize it now is that I've only invited one other person to read this blog so far (hi!) and can't decide who the second one should be. And it crossed my mind to mention it at my birthday dinner party next week--and that just made my stomach tie up in a nice, little knot with a bow in it. I guess I'm just going to have to bite the bullet and take the plunge--if you'll forgive the mixed metaphors.
I'm running out of steam here, it's been another long day. I didn't get outside of the building at all and it was a gorgeous spring day--but my allergies! Oh, man, this is the worst it's been and I know it's worse for others, as my symptoms--the sneezing and sniffling and itchy nose (not eyes, they're fine, go figure)--are really no worse than a medium cold, but I so rarely get that symptom that I have to assume others are truly miserable. And that's what I've been hearing. Of course, I do have extra fatigue and some lightheadedness tonight and those are my usual allergy symptoms.
I have to do the laundry tomorrow and I'm not looking forward to that. But having clean undies, etc., that I'm looking forward to.
More tomorrow. Or the next day.
Monday, May 01, 2006
Mayday! Mayday!
Hmm, it's after midnight, I guess I've missed the first of May. (And can I just say here, for the record, that I hate that for the next month Word will try to capitalize the word every time I type the word "may"? It's worse than March, because, really, how often do people say the word "march"?)
Anyway, it was May 1st and there were lots of demonstrations by legal and illegal immigrants. I was with them in spirit, but really the only reason I didn't spend any money was because I didn't have any. Oh, except I spent two bucks to take the bus back up the hill from the bank, because I at least had two checks to deposit, so tomorrow, I will have some money. And putting that title on this post is kind of misleading, since it was last week that I was in real trouble. As of today, I'm just dealing with normal stress levels, not the aggravated kind that were troubling me just a few short days ago. Ah, such is life.
I was going to write some about how I'm reading John Steinbeck's Journal of a Novel, written during his first draft of East of Eden (my very favorite book, which I hope to reread soon), but I'm tired, the cat is cranky and I want to curl up in bed with some milk and cookies. (You didn't see that, right? The part about the cookies, I mean. Shhhh...)
I also wanted to post about my mother and how worried I am about her. Also for another time
It's the merry month of May and the 10th will be my birthday. Sweet dreams to all!
Anyway, it was May 1st and there were lots of demonstrations by legal and illegal immigrants. I was with them in spirit, but really the only reason I didn't spend any money was because I didn't have any. Oh, except I spent two bucks to take the bus back up the hill from the bank, because I at least had two checks to deposit, so tomorrow, I will have some money. And putting that title on this post is kind of misleading, since it was last week that I was in real trouble. As of today, I'm just dealing with normal stress levels, not the aggravated kind that were troubling me just a few short days ago. Ah, such is life.
I was going to write some about how I'm reading John Steinbeck's Journal of a Novel, written during his first draft of East of Eden (my very favorite book, which I hope to reread soon), but I'm tired, the cat is cranky and I want to curl up in bed with some milk and cookies. (You didn't see that, right? The part about the cookies, I mean. Shhhh...)
I also wanted to post about my mother and how worried I am about her. Also for another time
It's the merry month of May and the 10th will be my birthday. Sweet dreams to all!
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)