No-More-Shingles-Tuesday

A bad morning's sleep. I did have some strange dreams though. The phone rang twice from Janssen's office re the upcoming appointment for Sue, I was up a lot of the night. I definitely need to get back on the writing. I'm having depressed thoughts and I think it's from my lack of production. My tendency is to adopt a dancing bear routine that is great while the attention lasts but then when the spotlight moves on I go back into my cave and eat and sleep and have thoughts of deep-shittery.

So there's the plan, right? Well, yes and no. For instance, I have an 1100 appointment to get a shingles vaccination. That's no problem except it's across town and will eat up two hours. I wish I could parlay that time into some additional errands or something but there's little to do except to pick up a prescription, if it's ready.

I was playing around with Painter yesterday and I accidentally made a background that looked like deep green water with light coming through it. The effect is very hard to explain, but it's a look that I have always been attracted to. I should learn to do that on purpose.

But back to the story. I have talked or written about working on the story more than I have worked on the story for the past week. Thanksgiving intruded along with various distractive perflummery and my mind shoved off for sweeter climes where movies flowed like lemon drops and bicycles hung from every branch of the beautiful yellow and black prolispus tree.

I'm back now and I feel better. Don't worry over much about those moments, they tend to come and go like the swooping Elgin Bird hunting the reclusive black lalliers on a buzzy summer lawn. Just trying to paint a picture with words.

Where did I leave off? Always end sentences with a question mark? Indeed. It seems to me that my hands and mind are working well this morning. Better than average. As I was lying angrily in my bed this morning, answering the incessant ringing of the telephone with a full bladder and desperately aching for another ten minutes of something like sleep, I tried visualizing a deep scene. One that was layered and scantily lit by lights deeply embedded in a translucent medium. A little like the painting I accidentally made. It was very restful and I believe has led me to this restful and competent place where I am now.

There is really no proof of this but I'd like to believe this for now.

More later,


(photo by Ivars Krutainis)