Yesterday was sort of a mess, writing wise. I did not finish "Pickman's Other Model." I only did 748 words. Then I had to stop and walk over to Sweetgrass to have my eyebrows done. I'm trying, frantically, to reconstruct myself after all these months of illness and neglect and reclusivity, so that my physical appearance is not greeted with too much horror and dismay when I show up at the O'Neil Literary House. It's probably only further evidence of my wrongness that I find eyebrow waxings/pluckings to be extraordinarily soothing. Anyway, yeah, eyebrows. Hair on Friday. Not much I can do about the 12-15 pounds I've lost, though (most of it's muscle mass, not fat).
Wow. This is a prattling entry, isn't it? The dextromethorphan is controlling the cough, but my already addled brain is...more addled. Yes, people. I'm the reason all those pharmaceuticals are showing up in your tap water. From my bladder to the glass, no extra charge.
After Sweetgrass, we wandered around Criminal Records for a while. Later, we watched Danny Boyle's Shallow Grave (1994), which I'd never seen, but liked a great deal. Christopher Eccleston, Ewan McGregor, murder, greed, mayhem, betrayal, blood, revenge, and all in one movie — what's not to love? Later, there was rp in Toxia (a Second Life sim), with Lorne and Larissa, in which Nareth learned...well, several terrible things. Hearts were torn still beating from chests (but that's okay, I put it back when I was done), a star was forced into premature nova, and the blade of Nareth's thirsty straight razor was satiated (for now). In short, lessons were learned. Good stuff. Oh, and I've been loving Ghosts I-IV so much that I'm now revisiting NIN's Year Zero, which, I realize, I never listened to enough to really let it sink in.
So. That was yesterday. This will be today...