Have had a bit of a shit day. Usually Fairyland days are charmed days, but life came lumbering in this morning and sucker punched me. It happens.
I've often gone through paroxysms of internet etiquette with how personal to be or not to be on this journal--well, in this case I have no doubt. I am not going to talk about what happened this morning to cast a shadow over my day. It is deeply personal, and not related to or appropriate for the series of tubes at large. Suffice it to say something odd and upsetting occurred, I did not enjoy it, I am recovering. Unless you are super-close friends with me, please don't ask. Even if you are super-close friends with me, probably still don't ask. I am taking care of myself today.
I wrote about 4,000 words this morning, came home to said unpleasant thing, and after having a small cry about it, informed all and sundry that I would be in a Funk today and proceeded to play Rock Band for four hours, until my hand throbbed and my wrist ached. Rock Band is therapy, don't let anyone tell you different. And if karaoke/fake guitar Journey is wrong I don't want to be right. It's better than violence or sniveling in a corner I'll tell you what.
I then ate tortellini and aged gouda and chocolate and drank wine (will have more of that soon) and watched Dollhouse's unaired final episode, Epitaph One (holy fucking shit, you guys, talk about a gobsmack. Now I want to see Season 2. Now I can hardly wait for it. Now this is a show I can maybe give a shit about. All in one episode. Such a huge narrative gamble, I really hope S2 proceeds as though this aired. Because I cannot go back to hooker-of-the-week eps). Then the latest True Blood, which is my awesome crack, especially with Jacob's always-excellent recaps at TWOP. Why can't every show be recapped by Jacob?
I am feeling a little better, despite my soul-wound from this morning. I will do more wine to it.
I've been swimming in the ocean with my dog and my boy. It leads to salty hair and is frighteningly cold, but to be able to walk down the street and swim in the Atlantic is a bit of a magical thing. I didn't go today--possibly I should have. But there are times when all you can really do is plug in a plastic guitar and shred to Bon Jovi, because life really is as lame and sublime at the same time as shredding to Bon Jovi on a plastic guitar.
Now. I go write someone's ketubah and