And every day the paper boy brings more.
So the revision to the revised schedule needs revising. I’m not up to any promises at the moment. Suffice to say no. 20, “Sun,” won’t be beginning on Monday as noted; I’m not even sure if the next bit of “Moon” will have dropped by then.
One need not rehearse one’s own disappointments, one hopes?
(Those of others, on the other hand…)
At any rate. There are reasons; of course there are reasons. The dead logic board. The ear infection. The post-election ennui; the looming fiscal cliff; the move across town. Words that taste like tinfoil when you put them on the page. The terror that seizes when you get up on the stepladder with the shears to finally snip the thread that holds the other shoe of Damocles: will it actually make a noise, when it falls? Is anyone even listening?
What if all this latency—isn’t?
Mostly if I want to point to something though I’d point to the dam’ script, the third revision of which I just sent off to New York complete with wing and prayer. —Script? —Yes, well. The Spouse and I are collaborating on a young-adult graphic novel for Lerner, part of their “My Boyfriend is a Monster” series, and it takes time, writing 124 pages of comics down. Time that pays.
Which this time doesn’t, so much. —But whose fault is that, really?
That’s pretty much it, for now. It will come. When? I don’t know. Soon? Maybe. It’s dark; it’s cold. It’s also very, very quiet and rather too terribly dry. It’s the Moon.
That’s the best I can do.
—posted 4354 days ago
