In frigid purgatorial fires...
Tomorrow I leave for the Gulf Coast - I've got a massive story to finish, so I'll spend at least a few nights in cheap motels. I want to find my Indian name, but that may be hard since I'll neither fast nor smoke peyote. Perhaps I'll just hold my breath until a vision comes.
I'm sick but on the mend. Heather and I declared a new holiday yesterday: Suck Day, the worst day ever (we both have the plague or something). But the writing meeting brought us out of our torpor. Chris wrote a very different, very huge story for this week, and Adam wrote the best thing he's ever written. And then I went home and shook through the night, reading Heather's poetry, and found one that's so brilliant I couldn't sleep. (I also drank a cup of coffee at ten, so that might have had something to do with it.) There's certainly stagnation - I keep saying it's been January every day since November - but there's the sense of things breaking.
These winter months have been nothing if not vital.
Tomorrow I leave for the Gulf Coast - I've got a massive story to finish, so I'll spend at least a few nights in cheap motels. I want to find my Indian name, but that may be hard since I'll neither fast nor smoke peyote. Perhaps I'll just hold my breath until a vision comes.
I'm sick but on the mend. Heather and I declared a new holiday yesterday: Suck Day, the worst day ever (we both have the plague or something). But the writing meeting brought us out of our torpor. Chris wrote a very different, very huge story for this week, and Adam wrote the best thing he's ever written. And then I went home and shook through the night, reading Heather's poetry, and found one that's so brilliant I couldn't sleep. (I also drank a cup of coffee at ten, so that might have had something to do with it.) There's certainly stagnation - I keep saying it's been January every day since November - but there's the sense of things breaking.
These winter months have been nothing if not vital.
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