What’s up with my book?

This has been a great month of April.  My sister and eight-year-old nephew came.

To me, from Melbourne.  We saw.

The CanyonThe museumAnd Wupatki.

They left east as the second week began.  To see.

 

Other places and faces.

A widely scattered, diverse family.

I love them dearly.

But, I was worn.

 

Then, ten hard days.  Like the first eight weeks of disability.

Too worn to stare beyond the walls.

But, ideas came.

 

Voice recognition, I am learning to love you!

And I now have folders, labeled for all my concepts.

Ideas filling them with story.

The narration of my ideas is now.

A slurpy concrete.

Setting, in mind.

I have waited for this day.

Earlier, I was thinking how sometimes my writing sparkles clear in sunlight, while others it is muddy, often shallow.  I am learning to use this cycle to advantage.

I write best when my symptoms are at bay.  And, I keep them at bay.

Brushing them back with cannabis.  But.

Things break down.  Symptoms intrude.

I chase them, increasing my dose.  Hoping.

They go away.

Eventually, they disappear, but only after I bottom out.

I typically rebound.  A floor higher than the basement.  I found myself, in.

My ceiling, lower than some past, previous floor.

Rebound is when marijuana can inhibit my writing.  After chasing symptoms with heavier doses, and diminishing effect, I need that break.

Today, I hadn’t used any since the day before yesterday.  It’s subconscious subtle.  I don’t even notice a decision to abstain.  I just notice that.

By evening.  I haven’t used any all day.  And, I ask.

Myself.  Can I sleep the night without?

If I think so, I know.  I am bouncing back.

But, I still can’t write.  I can’t think.

I sleep.  I do things.  I move around, caring for vegetables, and two cats.

My camera takes photographs.  I appreciate that.  I enjoy this beautiful world.

As pain creeps back into picture, the game begins.

How long can I wait, as worse it gets?

Today, this evening.  A Thin Mint, vaporized.

Finally.  Feeling good enough to write.

Yoda rough skis do

=== 12:13 a.m. (Thursday, the 17th) ===
Small couch, east.

I just came home from Yoda rough skis do, <== isn’t this fantastic? This is what Apple’s voice recognition software heard, when I spoke into my journal, “I just came home from Jodorowsky’s Dune.”

It was my second time.  The first, I felt a deep spiritual connection to this man, Alejandro Jodorowsky.  I had heard of his creation, long ago.

I went again.  This time, to focus on his words.  The first time, I felt a bit dazzled by his originality.  This evening, I was prepared for the surprises, so my attention could remain on his words and ideas.

I can’t recommend this film highly enough.  See it, and watch how an artist thinks.