Read nothing into it, I'm just working really hard. Sometimes that feels great--justbeast and I stayed up all night a couple of days ago working on respective projects and it was wonderful--The Spindle of Necessity is now well underway and we love working side-by-side, which I guess is some kind of geeky expression of love and solidarity. I felt on top of things yesterday. But the giant 700-page ms arrived this morning to be copyedited, and even thought I know it's a mostly clean manuscript I always spend at least one full day letting it sit on my kitchen table and growling at it when I walk past, ala our cat Nola, who growls at everything as she walks past, lest it live in merry bliss of the fact that Nola is the Boss Of It. And now I just cringe thinking of the fact that in the next month I have to finish a somewhat alarming number of pieces and projects, and somehow, on top of that, find time for the long-languishing Descent series and a trip to Chicago for the Bookslut reading. (April 11th, for those in town.)
I often tell myself that someday I will have my queue cleared and will just be able to take on one project at a time. This is rather stupid, as queues fill up far faster than I can write, and I think it is officially my job to be harried and hold back the door against a mountain of pages. Looks like a lot of late nights in April. Cruellest month, I hear.
I'm also finally working out regularly and hoping to feel less shitty about my body soon. That would be nice.
I am now going to go and play some Twilight Princess on the GameCube we bought justbeast for his birthday and not think about this.
If anyone is local to Cleveland, I am reading at noon on Saturday at Gallery 324 on E. 9th St, downtown. It would really mean a lot to me if you guys would come--please do try. It's poetry, but I promise to read the ones with boobs first.