I googled ‘writing in bed’ and got this. (This because Jeff is, if not appalled, then somewhat perturbed that I do most of my writing in bed.) From there I googled “Death of George Orwell” and from there I got the wikipedia article (bien sûr) about Eric Blair. From there I got this. And the first paragraph of the third chapter nearly made me croak with laughter. Vermicular progression!!! I shall be quoting that in my novel if I don’t watch out.
The opening poem is a corker, too. Every fucking elected Republican in the States and elected (debatable) Conservative in Canada should read it.
I did have a rough couple of days. Feeding Ayesha was the only reason I got dressed and left the house a couple of times. But my friends as usual helped me feel better. I was reading Jenny Diski’s latest review about insanity and being committed, and reading about the continuing horror and debility of the mental unwellness of an acquaintance on fb, and I just had to stop and thank a few people.
Sandy for telling me to go back to taking vitamin d, which was the smartest of many smart things she’s told me in the last year; Paul for taking me for a WONDERFUL walk in Queen’s Park (we haven’t walked there in 15 years, I’d guess) where we saw a gazebo, and pigs in the petting zoo, and kids having fun but NOT SHRIEKING, and gingko trees, and roses, and a completely deserted outdoor exercise space for adults; Jeff for indulging me when I said, “Gee whiz after watching the last ten minutes of True Detective (wherein there was an incredible gun battle) I want to rewatch 44 Minutes: The North Hollywood Shootout!” and he said sure, so we did, and I have to say it’s held up very, very well; Sue for always being a positive and loving force in my life; Tammy for listening; mOm and pOp of course for so much practical and uncomplicated support now and earlier; both kids for various kinds of help; John, who seems to pop up everywhere in my mind these days and I don’t know why this picture of a dog reminds me of him; Margot for being so relaxed about not being normal; Bounce for being one of my happiest memories.
After the wonderful walk yesterday (all those beautiful tall trees!) Paul took me to the Taqueria Playa Tropical, which is such a good restaurant it doesn’t serve desert (of course not, and as I re-read this I note they don’t serve dessert EITHER.) I ordered a beer and Paul had a Margarita, can you credit it? And the server swapped the drinks because GENDER ROLES, which occasioned harmless mirth. I had the Tosta Carnita, and for seven bucks I got the tastiest sandwich I have ever, ever eaten. GOD IT WAS GOOD I AM STILL IN THAT HAPPY PLACE. Paul had the enchiladas and the way they were plated I wanted to take a picture, but I am damned glad I didn’t because that shit’s rude. And I left my phone in the car.
Happy to have friends. All I meant to say. Because they are the people standing between me and the bughouse.
400 words yesterday. Babies tumbling down stairs and being weird.
I am working on more songs and more writing, but all the songs have not had lyrics of late. I am practicing!