December was the best December I've had in a very, very long time, and it's impossible not to spend these days back in Providence missing the cabin in Woodstock.
My pajama chair, for example.
Or this photograph, behind shattered glass, of a dapper young John Coltrane.
A hundred little things like that.
At least a hundred.
If nothing else, those three weeks in the Catskills went a long way towards driving home the knowledge of so many things I let go in my life that I have to find a way to get back to, whether it happens in the North or in the South.
No, I wrote nothing yesterday. I did not work whatsoever. I spent the day trying to shake off the Seroquel, being pissed that I wasn't getting any work done, and marveling that I got any work at all done between December 2013 and November 2014, that year-long Seroquel vacation of mine. Fuck, it's evil shit. My head was a storm all the way until I finally fell asleep last night, about 3:30 a.m. Some pot did at least take the edge off the hangover.
Later Taters,
Aunt Beast
Photographs Copyright © 2014 by Caitlín R. Kiernan
