Well, I'm here. I've had a shockingly productive day. Post office, tidy yard, water plants, wash car, vacuum insides, simple green to the seat spots inlieu of pro-detailing or dyeing the seats orange. Which I may still do. I then gathered 3 writing samples- an old essay on Samuel Johnson and Wit, a short story and a cheeky screenplay coverage sample. THEN i finished a sample of crafty/installing general awesomeness for my website (for someones perusal). Oh and what, 2 more seaweed pressing sold. Out of nowhere. I don't get it. I mean i'm not arguing. Obviously. Oh and someone called from the Academy of Music and Dramatic Arts to set up an interview for a mysterious temp job of which i know not the task, length or pay... I managed to watch at least three episodes of Pushing Daisies, a 1945 adaptation of '10 little indians', read one page of my novel, and whatever else. It's a whirl.
I turned down the shower option and what can possibly be accomplished tomorrow... maybe the shower. I don't know. Anyway. Tanning?
This letter is a classic example of being tired, and having too many scattered thoughts to hold glue. Lists shmists... Hold water. Anyway.
What's the undercurrent- anxious thoughts, encouraging thoughts. Too much tv to read between the static. category upon category of self dissected in the blink of an eye twitch to which i think i should write it down. But I won't hold still.
love you, m.