There’s Only So Much You Can Do!

In this heat, I mean.

Besides  flooding yourself with caffeine on ice and doing everything in your power to not light up a Pall Mall cigarette. (I have a whole pack here because that’s what my mom smokes.) (Nicotine makes my brain work GOOD, gang! But makes the rest of me feel like shit later…)

My brain was completely locked down from all this heat by noon yesterday, and it never got better. I could almost think, but not enough to keep switching between 2 different versions of the script for Tell My Bones and try to get a firm grip on the revisions I needed to make to the play overall.

My brain was like a swamp, replete with all the lovely things that swamps  entail.

And that’s not the best way to undertake writing a play that will win a Pulitzer Prize! (Still, if the swamp/brain route is the only available way, then you gotta pray that everything else in the running that year is way, way, WAY less good than your swamp-ridden play…)

It was so frustrating.

However. I did get some really good input from a publisher re: a potential good home for my new novel, Blessed By Light. So that was cheerful!

And this morning, even while Peitor is back in Los Angeles, he still has his hands full with really pressing, disturbing, tedious familial obligations, so we once again cannot work on developing the script for our tiny yet delightful Abstract Absurdity Prods.  Which I guess is good, because I need to have the revisions of the play completed by Tuesday morning.

Which means, of course, that I’m gonna spend my entire birthday working on the play. But it will only be 93 degrees Fahrenheit on Monday, instead of 97 degrees. And instead of ungodly amounts of humidity, we will have ungodly amounts of humidity with torrential thunderstorms.

So, you know. Sure am looking forward to that!

Still. All that whiny stuff said. It is nowhere near as bad in here as last summer, before all the new insulation got installed. So most of my histrionics are just for show.

I got a really pretty birthday card from my father and stepmom yesterday. (My adoptive dad — the one who had the profound delight of raising me). It was really sweet. And it said that I was the kind of daughter who brought sunshine wherever she goes.

It cracked me up! I know my stepmom has to have been the one to pick that card out, right?  Even though she is confined to a wheelchair and in a nursing home, and ravaged by years of MS, her mind is still sharp & she is really sweet.  And there is just no way, ever, in a bazillion years, that my dad would correlate me with “sunshine” in any way, shape, or form.

If it was really my dad choosing the birthday cards, it would say something like: I’m Almost 90 and I Cannot Believe I Have Survived All the Joys of Knowing You for This Long; OR, No One Spews the ‘F’ word Like You Do, Darling Daughter! OR, As Another Birthday Comes Around for You, Darling Daughter, I Think Back on All the Years and Wonder What the Fuck I Did to Deserve You, I was Having Such a Good Time ‘Til You Showed Up.

You know, sentiments like that. (I only wish I was kidding, gang.)

Anyway. It was a cute little card and it perked up my spirits in the dreadful heat.

Today, I am going to split whatever energy I can find for my brain between working on the play and writing query letters to 3 publishers. It’s a really interesting adventure this time around, because I love my new novel but I also know that it’s really unusual. So I honestly have no clue with which publisher it will be a good fit.  My queries so far have been, “I have no clue if my writing is suitable for you at all but do you think you might like to see it?”

THEM: “Well, when you put it like that — I might!”

It’s an adventure! A literary adventure. Of which I have had many in my illustrious career.

(Including, but not limited to, on the eve of supposed-to-be receiving a 6-figure advance for my delightful, award-winning novel Freak Parade, the owner of the (large, very well known) publishing house, announced at a production meeting: “We are not publishing this filth and I would never publish this filth, even if my life depended on it!”) (Sadly, again, I only wish I was kidding.)

Okay, gang. My music-listening in this heat has gone in 2 distinct directions. Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds when the caffeine is spiking, and then Jr. Thomas & the Volcanos when the heat & humidity swells back up and smothers me again.

So I leave you with those two listening options today!

(And for some reason — methinks a financial one — no lyrics are online for Jr. Thomas songs.) (And of course, I am aware that all these “free” music and “free” lyrics online, robs musicians and songwriters of a ton of royalty money that they used to get back in the Dark Ages. But all the music I listen to every day, is either a CD I paid for, or is something I stream that I also paid for. I can only hope that you guys do the same, but I’m thinking that a whole heck of a lot of people don’t really pay for music at all anymore. Which really does suck.)

Anyway. Have a great sunny Saturday, wherever you are in the world!! Thanks for visiting! I love you guys. See ya!

“Midnight Man”

Hold that chrysalis in your palm
See it split and change
It won’t do you any harm
It’s just trying to rearrange
It was born to live a day
Now it flies up from your hand
It’s beautiful
It’s the one they call
Your ever-loving man

Wolves have carried your babies away
O your kids drip from their teeth
The nights are long and the day
Is bitter cold beyond belief
You spread yourself like a penitent
On the mad vibrating sand
And through your teeth
Arrange to meet
Your midnight man

Everybody’s coming around to my place!
Everybody’s coming around to my place!
Everybody’s coming around!
O baby don’t you see
Everybody wants to be
Your midnight man

Don’t disturb me as I sleep
Treat me gentle when I wake
And don’t disturb me as I sleep
Even though your body aches

Even though your body aches
To serve at his command
Between the walls
She still adores
Her ever-loving man

Close your eyes, sleep in him
Dream of your lost sons and daughters
Me, I’ll raise up the dorsal fin
And glide up and down the waters

I’ll glide up and down the waters
Then I’ll walk upon the land
And call ’em out
The ones who doubt
Your midnight man

Everybody’s coming around to my place!
Everybody’s coming around to my place!
Everybody’s coming around!
Don’t did you see
Everybody wanna to be
Your midnight man

It’s early in the morning
And I don’t know what to do
It’s early in the morning
And I can’t believe its true
As I lay in the moment
And it’s happening again
Well, I called you once, I called you twice
Ain’t I your midnight man

Everybody’s coming around to my place!
Everybody’s coming around to my place!
Everybody’s coming around!
They want you, they love you, they need you
To be, your midnight man

Everybody’s coming here
Everybody’s coming here
Everybody’s coming here
To be your midnight man
To be your midnight man

c – 2008 Nick Cave

2 thoughts on “There’s Only So Much You Can Do!”

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