Writing is not at the forefront of my days right how. There are too many images burrowing deep in the grooves of my brain. I'm going with the flow....or the manic state. Whatever works.
An editor from Rootspeak, another online magazine, contacted me last week and asked me to contribute some pieces of writing. Evidently, they canvass sites like Open Salon for writers.
They are running the series of posts I wrote about my son. The first one went up yesterday. I'd give my life not to have such a thing to chronicle. The situation, not the person. I adore him.
Working with an editor in this way is sweet. They proofread, edit and post. I don't have to do anything but write. Nice.
I'm working on a series of drawings. I don't know where they are going yet. But that is par for the course....and I don't play golf.
There is a great deal of attitude in the air.
Only K. would understand that.
Other than that, I'm not saying.
I've been ill. The left side of my head has been on fire since Thanksgiving with a fever on and off. My gland is swollen on that side, as well. I finally went to the doctor yesterday. Turns out I have shingles. It takes a month to go away even with these massive antibiotics. Evidently it is stress related. Stress? Really?
And I thought I was doing so well steeped in denial and escapism.
Darn.
But another day will still come.
And I will be here to greet it.
