Fuzzy Head and Warm Weather

The last of the Canadian students started writing their exams on Friday; I’m free again, so I spent the weekend writing the first draft of a short story that’s been messing around in my head for a month or so.  I just finished it, and my head’s all fuzzy.

I love that feeling.

I didn’t, now that I’m free, clean my house or do any of the menial things I was supposed to do.  I’m not worried about them; the house will still be dirty next weekend.

The last two weeks have been full of interesting things:

  • the rabbit died (interesting, but not in a good way), so The Ark is down to two algae eaters who act like slugs, and one very fat cat
  • I got a new student, an adult who is a follower of Sai Baba; he talked a lot about Sai’s philosophies, etc.  I spent more time learning from him than he did from me
  • I got my first “gifted” student, whom I am supposed to keep challenged all summer; this is certainly a challenge for me
  • the brilliant Nichola Ward wrote two poems which did nothing for me, and then made up for them last Thursday with the most astounding, awesome performance piece I have ever experienced.  It’s not published yet, so I can’t show it to you.  Hurry up, Ms. Ward.
  • it got warm, and the tree outside my window is exceedingly happy about this

  • it got warm, and Bob is exceedingly happy about this; he’s got new Bob parts

  • it got warm, and I’m not so happy about this ’cause the far side of Signal Hill is never warm so I can’t pretend that’s where I am

There are plans afoot to start a new short story magazine.  It’s supposed to be a way to get our stuff out there so we can be published rather than waiting for our stories to fit into someone else’s plans.  I’m excited; I think I’ve decided that indie is best, anyway, so I’m just gonna have to bite the bullet and figure out a way to sell my stuff.  I made the same decision about being self-employed; I still despise doing the advertising but it’s worth it so I don’t have to work for someone else.

There are a lot of bullets to bite.  Good thing I like the taste of metal.

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