insecurity under all that Bumble Bee Beauty
Last night, before the recap of Battlestar Galactica began, Trish had a long talk with me, about her insecurity. She's doing well on the outside; inside she wants to hide, especially at night: she goes to bed early, for fear that she won't sleep enough. She sleeps until 8:00 (usually), sometimes 7:30. That's the case today; she has to call Voc Rehab about making an appointment to see about a voucher for cab rides to Pizza Hut in the winter.
She also nearly had a car wreck, driving home from work yesterday. Apparently, she ran a yellow light, & some Drugster Truck Drivin' Man in a reefer hauler tried to cut in front of her. She stopped 1/2-way thru the intersection; he stopped; let her go.
Other than that, it was a normal day yesterday. I fixed pancakes, like usual, then began work on my novel, once Trish left. She's been trying something different: rather than waiting until 3:00 to have lunch, she leaves a bit early & has a salad bar.
I think that this may be the reason why she's been wanting to rush home from work. She also wamts to see me -- which is good; I know it means she loves me -- & bad; I sometimes need time to torment my typewriter. Or it torments me. Whatever. I am a driven man, & great & terrible things, both, live within my mind.
I decided to go ahead & at least use parts of #10, just for the sake of not retyping them from memory, so I went ahead & inserted the file into "Requiem for a Black Angel", then found I had too much erasing to do before lunch, so I went over to Feed My Sheep for lunch. A piece of b-b-q chicken, a salad, some veggies, a bowl of bean soup, & a dessert (which I probably should start to skip). I may lose weight now that I'm off haldol, in spite of which, FUCK SCIENTOLOGY!
So I came home, & started on the erasing. I'm trying for a less ambiguous & schizophrenic look, substituting instead something where the character is almost aware that he's hallucinating. The problem I faced -- & which made me quit for the day -- is that some of this belongs in #9 (the original), so I'm either going to have to do some copying-&-pasting, or else explain why the redundancy exists. In any case, I'll have to start over once I reach the end, as in general, I'm trying to shift the story away from the SF/comic book idea that the Dream Police live anywhere but inside the character's head. Then there is the matter of adding a happy ending. I have my work cut out for me today, after Trish walks to work. I want me & Car-girl to pick her up during TA time. I'm also sacrificing my Thursday appointment, so Trish can do a little more driving -- & Car-girl has to remember that Trish can drive & isn't dangerous; she just needs help with parking. The copz initialized savage dread in her when she bumped into that van. I want it to go away.
Once I'd finished scrolling thru the chapter & eliminating Love & Death (that story wasn't even a shadow of God & Sisyphus), I watched our Peter Gabriel video, as I'd heard it in the store after lunch, where I'd picked up a few items.
Trish arrived home safely, apart from the scare by the diesel, & parked her car adequately OK, but not completely OK. She's still having trouble judging distances.
After supper, we turned the TV on, to the Skiffy Channel, to see about our space opera. I channel-surfed a bit, then while we watched Stargate Trish stopped paying attention to the show & opened up about her insecurity. She wants more medicine, but she's already on a lot of medicine, & has to learn that you can't always reach for salvation in a pill bottle. She needs to give the stuff she's on a little more time to work, & to talk her problems out with her therapist.
At bedtime we snuggled, along with the 4 teddy bears she says "protect" us. However, it became really hot, so I turned off the pilot light. Trish got a little paranoid about it, but finally acquiesced. Now it's Kool, but it's not Super-Kool. I can cope with a sweater. I'll turn it back on once the weather cools down again. The dreams last night took me to ideas for foreplay with Trish. I hope the ED is due to haldol. If not, I can get a 'script for Viagra. Then I can really shoot the orgasm-death.
I wish Robbie Matthews would finally put QA thru the queue at ASIM. He's been deliberately delaying it, since I blew up at him. I wasn't blowing up at him, I was blowing up at a reader who used insults, sarcasm, & ridicule to reject the story, besides being totally ignorant about science.
She also nearly had a car wreck, driving home from work yesterday. Apparently, she ran a yellow light, & some Drugster Truck Drivin' Man in a reefer hauler tried to cut in front of her. She stopped 1/2-way thru the intersection; he stopped; let her go.
Other than that, it was a normal day yesterday. I fixed pancakes, like usual, then began work on my novel, once Trish left. She's been trying something different: rather than waiting until 3:00 to have lunch, she leaves a bit early & has a salad bar.
I think that this may be the reason why she's been wanting to rush home from work. She also wamts to see me -- which is good; I know it means she loves me -- & bad; I sometimes need time to torment my typewriter. Or it torments me. Whatever. I am a driven man, & great & terrible things, both, live within my mind.
I decided to go ahead & at least use parts of #10, just for the sake of not retyping them from memory, so I went ahead & inserted the file into "Requiem for a Black Angel", then found I had too much erasing to do before lunch, so I went over to Feed My Sheep for lunch. A piece of b-b-q chicken, a salad, some veggies, a bowl of bean soup, & a dessert (which I probably should start to skip). I may lose weight now that I'm off haldol, in spite of which, FUCK SCIENTOLOGY!
So I came home, & started on the erasing. I'm trying for a less ambiguous & schizophrenic look, substituting instead something where the character is almost aware that he's hallucinating. The problem I faced -- & which made me quit for the day -- is that some of this belongs in #9 (the original), so I'm either going to have to do some copying-&-pasting, or else explain why the redundancy exists. In any case, I'll have to start over once I reach the end, as in general, I'm trying to shift the story away from the SF/comic book idea that the Dream Police live anywhere but inside the character's head. Then there is the matter of adding a happy ending. I have my work cut out for me today, after Trish walks to work. I want me & Car-girl to pick her up during TA time. I'm also sacrificing my Thursday appointment, so Trish can do a little more driving -- & Car-girl has to remember that Trish can drive & isn't dangerous; she just needs help with parking. The copz initialized savage dread in her when she bumped into that van. I want it to go away.
Once I'd finished scrolling thru the chapter & eliminating Love & Death (that story wasn't even a shadow of God & Sisyphus), I watched our Peter Gabriel video, as I'd heard it in the store after lunch, where I'd picked up a few items.
Trish arrived home safely, apart from the scare by the diesel, & parked her car adequately OK, but not completely OK. She's still having trouble judging distances.
After supper, we turned the TV on, to the Skiffy Channel, to see about our space opera. I channel-surfed a bit, then while we watched Stargate Trish stopped paying attention to the show & opened up about her insecurity. She wants more medicine, but she's already on a lot of medicine, & has to learn that you can't always reach for salvation in a pill bottle. She needs to give the stuff she's on a little more time to work, & to talk her problems out with her therapist.
At bedtime we snuggled, along with the 4 teddy bears she says "protect" us. However, it became really hot, so I turned off the pilot light. Trish got a little paranoid about it, but finally acquiesced. Now it's Kool, but it's not Super-Kool. I can cope with a sweater. I'll turn it back on once the weather cools down again. The dreams last night took me to ideas for foreplay with Trish. I hope the ED is due to haldol. If not, I can get a 'script for Viagra. Then I can really shoot the orgasm-death.
I wish Robbie Matthews would finally put QA thru the queue at ASIM. He's been deliberately delaying it, since I blew up at him. I wasn't blowing up at him, I was blowing up at a reader who used insults, sarcasm, & ridicule to reject the story, besides being totally ignorant about science.
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