Wednesday.
About the photo:
I had to put fuel in the auto, and prices are still quite high.
I was very out of sorts today - no idea why. Maybe it was the incredible headache I woke up with - like somebody in dreamland slapped a cast iron fez on me so that I went about all day with a burning ring of pain right on top of my head.
Which, as many of us know, can only lead to one thing: the crushing fear of undetected, but deadly tumors...which perhaps sucked all the energy out of my day, leaving me cranky and ill-prepared to do my job. And not being able to do my job possibly led to hating portions of said job in a way I usually never do...which led to having to stay at work 2.5 hours longer than I normally do.
All of which put me back at home too late to call the bank and transfer money to my brother, which made me feel guilty - and since everybody knows that guilt is the harbormaster of little minds (or something like that) I was made small and mean in my guilt...which left me completely out of sorts. And all of this was just the first portion of my day.
I left out the part of my day where I watched James Frey (A Million Little Pieces) on Oprah, and how that made me think about recovery and treatment and sorrow (and a little bit about how good it would be to turn a history of suffering into #1 on the NY Times Best Seller list),
and the part of my day where I thought my daughter called to tell me she loves me, but she really called to find out where our dentist's office is...and I definitely left out the part where I watched part of "Pollack" for probably the 8th time because his searing miserableness so speaks to me....
So now I return to dreamland, where perhaps I can drop off my headache, which would really take the edge off those tumors and - as you might well imagine - make tomorrow a better day.
4 comments:
Hi. I really like the way you write. I was just kidding about Doob, or else I was drinking when I wrote it. What work are you doing? Do you write other things? Are you well?
hey back - you may have been drinking when you wrote it, but whatever you said about Mr. Levay wasn't mean - just witty. So I checked you out;I liked the way you write and the rest is history.
I am an artist, and also write,
but not professionally, unless you count some poems published in some anthologies. I am well - a little hostile because the rainy season has begun - but otherwise more good than bad. Thank you for asking. What about you? I know you are a gay waiter who enjoys a good lunch - what other news do you have to share.
Hi again.
News? Nothing of note, that's for sure. Just trying to get by. I've been terribly lazy of late, and the Shoulds are piling up again. Time to stop killing time and try USING it for a change. Like writing: Stupid old novel idea. Like making art: Stupid old acrylics, stupid old pencils.
Tired tonight. It's been a long day-- no accomplishments. Even Lucy was neglected-- no walk for her.
sigh
We are possibly on the same wavelength...getting up and getting going is my Mt. Everest climb these days. I looked your books up on Amazon, and damned if they aren't right there. I am envious - a well-recieved book, one with actual covers and everything.
Is it true what I fear - that success is as lonely as failure?
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