18: the Remnants of Yesterday

On my second mug of tea (mango black, for those interested in that sort of thing) and picking through the fourth chapter of the Book. I want to hole up and read Hemingway, and Fitzgerald and write, and kill all these goddamn flies that are not taking the bait I so cleverly left in the kitchen. I want to be back in Galway, I'm wondering if I have the money for the flight and the room to write, if I could convince NFAA to grant me the money to have the time to write, though I don't think that's quite the point of those alumni grants. Worth a shot though, yes?

14: Post Meds

Lately, I've been hankering to write. I can't tell you how reassuring that feeling is- my biggest fear with medication was that I'd lose the ability to write, or the desire for creativity. So far, not the case. I've begun a new chapter of the Book, and I want to seriously get working on the Story. So, if you're an artist or you know someone who wants to write a graphic novel, let me know. I want the art to not just be ink and pen, but with the influence of photography and painting, the same way I want the writing to be more than dialogue and narration. I want to play around with the graphic novel form and idea. I suppose it's a good thing I was linked to Write or Die then, which reminds me of that quote from 'Bird by Bird', one can either write or kill themselves.

As for the side effects, still feel them. They've been covered up lately with this bad cold (I absolutely cannot wait for this persistent lump in my throat to be gone!), and soon enough that'll pass and I'll see how my system feels. Either way I have another appointment to talk about the blood work and the after shocks. My fingers are crossed for good things.

"You can safely assume that you've created God in your own image when it turns out that God hates all the same people you do."
Anne Lamott