Sick this morning and afternoon, but I'm a little better this evening. If my guts would calm down. Stress. Things I need that I do not have and will not again have for a couple of weeks. Fear. The gnawing, grinding, crushing sense of loss. The idiots running wild in the streets and posting on the internet and holding Federal and State offices, idiots elected by idiots. America that is beginning to look at lot like the end of the Weimar Republic. My lousy feet and lousy teeth and all the rest. One of California's wildfires bearing down on Sequia National Park. COVID-19. Afghanistan.
But hey, at least Gavin Newsom is still governor of California. And "we only lost because the election was rigged" is the new normal for the GOP, and that is a very, very dangerous state of affairs.
Through worst of feeling sick this morning I did manage to work. I wrote a really decent paragraph on the mosasaur paper, and then parts of two other paragraphs. My fiction, people call it "sentence-level writing." This is word-level writing. It is slow and meticulous and oddly satisfying.
Last night we watched Debra Granik's Winter's Bone (2010) again. It's one of those perfect, brilliant films that far too few people appreciated, or even understood. And then a couple more episodes of Billions. Taylor has arrived, and yeah, they're cool.
Somehow, I slept nine hours last night. My body sleeps that long, it starts to think it's dying.
This afternoon's comfort film was Villeneuve's Blade Runner 2049 (2017).
Thanks to the folks who heeded my call and bid on The Dinosaur Tourist. The rest of you, here are the current eBay auctions. Please have a look. Thank you.
Later Tater Beans,