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"Who are you that I should have to lie?"

The weekend wasn't a good sort of weekend, and I'd provide a full accounting, only I have to be at my psychiatrist's office at 3:00 p.m. The very distillation of futility, that's what my partaking in the communions of prescription psychoactive meds has become. And yet I continue, for fear that going off my meds could make things even worse. Things can always get worse. You think otherwise, you're fooling yourself, kittens.

I'm still wrestling with this story that's due July 31st, and I've written about a thousand words (all on Saturday). I should also be getting started on Cherry Bomb, and I should be getting started right this goddamn minute....or a week ago. But I need to do some research in Boston that hasn't yet been done. Should have been done as soon as we got back from New Orleans, but I can't – no, I won't – deny that I've been letting things slide. Storms in my head put terrible dents in my resolve and in my work ethic and in my ability to behave responsibly. Also, yeah, I have to have the galleys for The Ape's Wife and Other Stories completely proofed by July 31st (and that's an extended deadline, and, by the way, you can get the trade edition from Amazon for only $27).

I only want to go to the sea. Or go to the swelter of Alabama. Or lay beneath the night sky, far from the light pollution of any cities. Or stay stoned. Or go to bed and shut my eyes. Or be anyone but who I am.

At -09, I live with the life I've made and the life that has been made for me.

Anyway, blah, blah, fuckity blah. Note that we'll be having a huge "comp copy" eBay blowout very soon. I have a story in an anthology, and I get two or three extra copies. And they pile up, cluttering my office, and they fill our storage units. So, I'm gonna auction off a lot of them. I'll sign the pages with my stories.

Now, time to brush my teeth, get dressed, ignore the mysterious and painful knot on the long plantar ligament of my right foot (likely an injury from my limp of the last few months – thank you, goddamn rotten feet – which I can call adding injury to injury, yes). Oh, Caitlín, it is so fucking unsightly to whine about one's health in public (yes, even in one's own blog). So, stop. Get dressed, comb my hair, brush my teeth, ignore my disdain for doctors' offices, and let Spooky drive me to this appointment. I leave you with storm clouds over Hattiesburg, Mississippi, as seen from the window of our train, ~5 p.m. CDT, June 12th:













All Photographs © 2013 by Caitlín R. Kiernan and Kathryn A. Pollnac



Spiraling,
Aunt Beast

Comments

( 16 comments — Have your say! )
shanejayell
Jul. 1st, 2013 06:14 pm (UTC)
Love the photos. I thought Red Delicious was done? Or am I mixing up projects?
greygirlbeast
Jul. 1st, 2013 06:16 pm (UTC)

No, I am. Cherry Bomb is next. Fuck.
shanejayell
Jul. 1st, 2013 08:15 pm (UTC)
Heh. Well, you worked on Red awhile, so it's probably stuck in your memory a little.
martianmooncrab
Jul. 1st, 2013 06:17 pm (UTC)
the drugs or no drugs question, I think anyone who takes any kinds of pills everyday to get through it, or to make sure the body gives a function of normalcy (and I want that redefined each day too) questions the Why of it all.

I hate being tethered to the pill box, most of them are benign, but, they are not a velvet prison.
greygirlbeast
Jul. 1st, 2013 06:18 pm (UTC)

Nicely said...
mamaroximagines
Jul. 1st, 2013 06:19 pm (UTC)
Many gentle hugs, Aunt Beast.

Trips home often put me in a similar place of mind; even virtual journeys. Physical pain doesn't help things any, either. Be gentle with yourself, darlin' ... and bitch and moan all you want. It *is* your blog, after all, and we are mere guests (ha! I typed ghosts first, my brain/finger connection is very weirdly wired; I actually like "ghosts" better, but changed it to my original, conscious intention).

Meds suck. SUCK. (Especially Sapphris, which--I guess--works for me, but tastes like a chunk of sulphur straight out of the hell in which I do not believe). But yeah -- it can be way, way, worse without them, although it's often hard to remember that.

No more ramble...just lots of love and good wishes.
greygirlbeast
Jul. 1st, 2013 06:22 pm (UTC)

and we are mere guests (ha! I typed ghosts first, my brain/finger connection is very weirdly wired; I actually like "ghosts" better, but changed it to my original, conscious intention).

I like "ghosts" better, too.

Meds suck. SUCK. (Especially Sapphris, which--I guess--works for me, but tastes like a chunk of sulphur straight out of the hell in which I do not believe). But yeah -- it can be way, way, worse without them, although it's often hard to remember that.

Maybe I'll drop all propriety and inhibition one day and list mine.
mamaroximagines
Jul. 6th, 2013 01:37 am (UTC)
Eh...I only mentioned the Sapphris because it tastes so bad. Is there such a thing as Psych-med name dropping hipsterism? I imagine there might be; it seems a chi-chi thing for young people to do. I take a mess 'o shit ... some P-med, some other stuff, none pleasant, but they keep me alive, or so I'm told, and able to function, within boundaries, in the world.
setsuled
Jul. 1st, 2013 06:29 pm (UTC)
Nice photos. I was listening to Bowie's "African Night Flight" while looking at this and it was oddly fitting.
(Deleted comment)
greygirlbeast
Jul. 1st, 2013 08:35 pm (UTC)

Your skies are a lot like the skies over northeast England right now.

You're welcome. But note these are no longer my skies. These are skies a thousand miles from Rhode Island. The skies up here are very, very different.
(Deleted comment)
alumiere
Jul. 1st, 2013 10:54 pm (UTC)
I understand the frustration; I hate having to take meds to function even a little.
captaincurt81
Jul. 2nd, 2013 12:31 am (UTC)
Then after Cherry Bomb is it THE DINOSAURS OF MARS?
philrancid
Jul. 2nd, 2013 11:06 am (UTC)
Hope you can push past it.
kiki60
Jul. 5th, 2013 08:53 pm (UTC)
Life can always get worse is an understatement. Life is sadistic party game for... Actual I shouldn't say that, it't a secret.
( 16 comments — Have your say! )