Ah, Monday. We meet again.
I opened the bedroom drapes and was immediately forced to hiss and retreat from that bright yellow stuff. Shambled through Boxnoggin’s wake-up loo break and making coffee, and now I’m in my office, still blinking and hissing a bit because dear gods, it’s too much. I miss the cedars along the back protecting us from the daystar.
I had a different earworm yesterday, but today it’s the New Radicals crooning wake up, kids, we’ve got the dreamer’s disease. The video’s kind of fascinating, in a time capsule manner–and I can only imagine the weariness of the people who had to clean up afterward. Everyone wanted to be Michael Stipe back then, and the malls were dying but we didn’t quite believe it yet. How strange, how very strange.
At least the flood of sunlight means the glass stuff on my windowsill glows like jewels. It’s about time to get another piece, as soon as I have a victory to celebrate. Maybe finishing this revision will do it–if I actually do finish. I’m back in semi-doldrums despite objective proof (landing in the past few weeks no less) that I do finish things. Imposter syndrome never takes a day off, and I’m kind of in the same boat. It’s hard to keep moving forward under such uncertainty; I’ve been in crisis mode since ’16 and it’s not letting up anytime soon.
I’d really like things to just…calm the fuck down for a second. alas, such is not the world we live in.
I did get the monthly newsletter out this past weekend, along with the announcement of a virtual launch for Spring’s Arcana. We’ll see how that goes. I’m nervous enough about the release that I’ll be sideways that day anyway, so it might even be fun. There’s something to be said for the relaxation of, “welp, can’t stop it now, might as well enjoy the ride.” I call it the Rollercoaster Principle, and it’s the reason I find those particular carnival rides so relaxing. Once you’re strapped in and the machine’s moving, you’re in the hands of the gods. Nothing can alter your fate, you’re simply at the mercy of physics. Being irresistibly drawn along has a certain charm.
Though only sometimes.
Right then. I’d better get some gruel and strap Boxnoggin into his walking harness. The coffee’s still warm and has a little cardamom in it, though…so maybe I’ll just sit here for a moment, close my eyes, and bask in the deadly radiation showering down, filtered by the atmosphere and driving all life on earth.
It’s all just a bigger rollercoaster, if one zooms out far enough philosophically. And with that (terrifying, I suppose) thought, I’d best get started.