Sunday, October 05, 2003
I tore another one out, shat it out, spat it out, vomited it, and this morning I can feel the great, empty space left behind.
The post-pardum, post-coital darkness that always follows completion, and follows the completion of novels ten-fold, has come earlier and harder than I'd expected. I should not have taken yesterday off. That didn't help. I should have kept working, kept my mind occupied and all those silly thoughts of rest could have waited a few decades. I didn't rest. I only grew increasingly taciturn and uncertain. I would like to be one of those authors who finishes and feels a sense of accomplishment and satisfaction, please. Something more than this emptiness. It threatens to collapse me like an old star, done with being itself. Oh, but yesterday. Anyway. Yes, yesterday. I didn't get out of the house until almost 3 p.m. and I'd have been better off staying in. The only redeeming portion of the afternoon was the half-hour or so spent in the Apple Store, drooling over the new G5s. A sat through a presentation on the G5s and dreamed of having enough disposable income to construct a Beowulf cluster from them to devote to nothing but processing SETI data units.
Last night, Spooky and I listened to LunarCycles and drank a lot of absinthe and I smoked for the first time in almost a year. This morning, my lungs feel like someone filled them with sludge while I was sleeping. Anyway, a great LunarCycles and if you didn't tune in this week, and the weasels have devoured your toes, you'll have another chance next weekend, and then the weasels won't have to start in on your fingers, as well.
A few thank yous. Thanks to Jackie and everyone on the phorum for being happier about my having finished Murder of Angels than I could ever be. Thanks to Chris for sending me Depraved English (how very apropos). Thanks to Maria for the letter, handwritten in an envelope and with a stamp and everything. Thanks to Crow for the postcard, which is almost as good as a letter. Thanks to Carlo and Jordan for e-mail. And apologies to anyone I should be thanking and am not. I'm thanking you anyway. But those are invisible thank yous.
I did pick up the last issue (for now) of How Loathsome yesterday. I read it this morning. You must find this and read it. Trust me.
There's no reason to trust me, of course. I wouldn't trust me. I don't trust me. You get stuck with someone as long as I've been stuck with me and you learn better.
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