04.25.04

A bad book is as much labor to write as a good one; it comes as sincerely from the author's soul. ~Aldous Huxley

We're at the tail end of the culling process for submissions to the literary magazine. The quote above reminds me that all writing is a baring of self. I should learn more gentleness. More graciousness? Good writing comes from bad writing and the willingness to be really awful. Hell, everyone's got to start somewhere.

I'm reminded that it's a craft, not a divine inspiration. Though inspiration does strike, it's more like *foomp* IDEA. Okay. Now what? Better get it written down.

Other than that, I'm the algebra queen today. Maybe poetry queen tonight at the Rabbit Hole.

I do know that I've got the tolerance of a pissed off rattlesnake today. If mater starts off the morning with another, "Huh-ro?" I'm going to gnaw off my left arm. First time, cute. Any time after that? GAAAHHH!

It's time to get out of her house. I can feel myself withdrawing from everything because if I don't give her the attention she wants, she gets jealous. It's very tiring.

But where to go? And how to survive? Do I stay in Portland? Do I leave town?

I'm at one of those awful/wonderful crossroads and I haven't a clue. My gut's saying get out of the house but it's not giving me any more to work with. Maybe patience is the best counsel. Perhaps my way will become more clear with time. Or I'll find a rich person with a deep,rattling cough that finds me inexplicably charming. Yeah, that'll happen. Ooo, look! A chortling hyena just shuffled off to buffalo in the backyard.

*sigh*

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