Friday, January 23, 2004
Sometimes my mornings are just too goddamn surreal. Until only a moment ago, Spooky was sitting here joyfully singing "H. R. Death-N-Stuff." I don't know what inspired that.
Last night, we watched Keep the River on Your Right: A Modern Cannibal Tale, which documents painter and archaeologist Tobias Schneebaum's return to the jungles of Peru and New Guinea, 45 years after he visited them as a young man. Watching 78-year old Tobias Schneebaum, at peace with himself and the world after a long, full life, I felt more hollow than I've felt in a long time (which is saying something). The greatest weaknesses of my life will be an absence of the ability to disregard the uninvited opinions of others and a deficit of genuine courage.
And, in that regard, I am quite ordinary. These are weaknesses which afflict most women and men, I suspect.
The wayward bookshelf is still empty, except for the Muppet Labs and Alien vs. Predator actions figures sitting on top of it. I haven't been in the mood to shuffle books about.
The CEM for Murder of Angels is lying on the living room floor. It growls at me whenever I come too near. I have until February 10th to return it to my publisher. I figure I need at least a week to work on it, so I can't ignore it very long. But every time I see it, every time it growls at me, I know it's only a stomach ache waiting to happen.
I'd rather be drawing little monster doodles for those who use the "buy it now" feature on our eBay auctions.
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