"One look and I saw inside, every little thing you've died to hide."
Yesterday was another very, very bad day, an ugly day, a day of rage and suicidal fantasies, in part because of the hellish winds that blew from morning until dusk, ~60 mph gusts, and it was pretty much a long sustained gust. The wind works its way underneath my skin, and it scrapes my nerves raw. The temperature reached, I think, 67˚F, but I had no wish to be out in that wind. We may reach 66˚F toady, with rain – but then winter comes galloping back to New England, and it isn't likely to leave until at least mid April.
But I have to get back on the horse. I've lost two days, and there's nothing I can do about the shitty weather or about Cold Spring or about not being able to afford to move back South. I can only do what I can actually do.
Sounds like shit when you say it aloud.
On the to do list over the next week:
1. A vignette for Sirenia Digest #122 2. Settle on ToC for Dear Sweet Filthy World 3. Begin assembling ms. for Dear Sweet Filthy World