So Thanksgiving was a glory cold clear fierce. After we had dinner with Dale’s mum we came home and Net came over and we turned on turned up music and began to dance. And we danced and Dale jumped up and put up his new tree with tasteful lights and garish lights you can take your pick he likes the colors and the tree lit up and we continued to dance and dance and happy happy me so drunk with no alcohol, two pieces of apple pie, yes, but no wine no beer no whiskey just music just dancing.
Which is the key to making it through the rest of my life without hurting wailing the fibro spike running down my spine sending its sparky meanness all over then to settle itself in my chest in my back oh my these poor wrists of woe. Tomorrow I see the rheum doc today I will swim and read and write and meet with my peeps tonight at church for our class.
I don’t have anything coming out. It’s always a shaky sort of thing, no pub on the horizon. I have a piece in the new Seneca Review, but I haven’t gotten my copy yet. Anybody out there see that thing? I really REALLY want my copy and how now soon please.
I have a few things awaiting editor response committee response graduate students how do they dare, that sort of thing. And yes, thank you, Narrative for allowing me to pay for my latest rejection and yes, I will keep you in mind for future submissions.
Had written a thing here and there, then my wrists fucked up and the braces were on and writing was difficult. They are better now and I’ve not worn the braces for a few days, hence yesterday’s piece. They are starting to give me the wince now, so better wrap things up.
I am very proud of this in Chatter. Big shout out to Sunny Montgomery who captured that thing that is me whatever that feathered hairy animal of me is.
Here’s to a great day for us all in spite of these hateful clouds.
(rough emotional physical crazy head matters posted on my bipolar life)