Dear Reader,
This has been a fussy bunny morning. Word Raccoon is clearing her throat. Sorry, fussy Word Raccoon morning, I guess!
I woke up at 4:30, couldn’t get back to sleep, and decided to read more of a short translated-from-French novel that I’ve been reading snippets of over the past three days. Initially, I loved the conceit. Alas, then the seams in the translation and the limitations of the form began showing. (It’s an epistolary novel, and there is only so much letters can do, friends.) I can’t tell whether all these characters are extremely prickly or whether I’m occasionally feeling the translation.
Oh, and the coincidences in the book are beginning to exasperate me. But I will finish it, because I’m 200 pages in and it’s only 270ish, so…also, I kinda want to see what happens.
Also, I had no idea how much of a letdown I would feel after All Novel, All August, was over. It was challenging, but I loved it. Now real life has re-entered the building, and I’m having trouble with the transition.
I was feeling blah and I had a headache and I needed caffeine and even though I’ve been going to the gym, I’ve done a lot of sitting this month and I am sore.
And this weather, WTH! I can’t even bear to sit on the sun porch. Sad face. I have resigned myself to being indoors at the moment and I don’t like it. What is there to look at indoors?, WR asks. She’s got a point.
I’ve been listening to an audiobook since last month. Because writing does not lend itself to book listening, it’s been so slow going that honestly, I’m kinda sick of it. I tried to listen this morning because I’ve only got two more hours of it to go! But this morning I was like, I have no idea what’s going on, so that was a no.
I tried watching a Clutterbug video. Cass always cheers me up! And she was doing a house makeover, so…at first, it was a big no. But then I made some breakfast and tried again and I’m watching it while I write this, so yes, yes.
The caffeine is helping the head.
But I wrote a melancholy little poem this morning, which actually helped, too. I know that if I ever make it a real poem I’ll have to take the writing part out of it, but for today, it’s just right for expressing my mood.
And WR and I have decided to make this a transition-back-to-real-life week, to give ourselves some mercy.
Fair. Fair.
(This transition is probably not helped because I scheduled my BIG NASTY ADMINISTRATIVE TASK PART TWO TODAY, and IF I finish it, there will probably be two other legs of it before all is said and done. I’d like to speak to today’s scheduler, please.)
Oh, you want to see the poem?
Why not?
Flattened Grass
Carnivals and circuses
are the worst.
They’re glitter and
grimaces,
seductive cinnamon followed by
queasiness.
Like my month of writing.
Both have pulled out of town
leaving behind
oil slicks, empty cotton candy cones
and flattened grass.
God, I hope that’s not all
life is.
P.S. It’s not.
P.P.S. Writing this when the day is mostly over, and I am happy to report that I completed that big nasty task AND the two hydras that did indeed sprout. I finished listening to the book while running errands. Finished reading that other book I was talking about, and submitted two packets of poetry. I spent a long time going through my “ready to submit” folder as well as my punk poems, and several of them raised their hands. But they’re so strangely made. WR says that is how she likes them sometimes. Sigh.
Also watched a bunch of very cool refill-the-well videos but more on that another time. The tale features skinny jeans and an unheeded watch!
Drema