Working on a novel, or story, or whatever it is, and fear I don’t have any extra juice for this blog. In fact, it’s probably better to get away from it and write something else. I’m in a good groove though, working every morning into the afternoon. Sometimes evenings, too. Unheard of. What happens to me, though, is I start to lose focus and the voice changes. The story comes apart. Anyway, that’s what’s happened in the past. I’m being super careful. Not showing it to anyone or talking too much about it. I would love to be able to keep writing it. The concept is so good that I imagine someone would want to steal it!
Quiet this morning. Everyone is dozing. Sally has grown more comfortable being a part of our group. She’s no longer hiding in a closet. Right now, she’s stretched out on the new rug, almost parallel to Target lying behind her. Bailey is nearest to me on the cool wood floor. Doe is sleeping in the hallway.
She’s still sick, although the steroid is managing her symptoms well. It’s a miracle drug. It does cause her to be tired and a little cranky, though. I worry about what else it’s doing. I give her a tiny dose every 36 hours right now. If I wait longer than that, she starts to feel sick to her stomach but I don’t want to give her any more than I have to. She’s still playful, loving and extremely beautiful. We get stopped on the street constantly. I’m going to take her to Mattituck to see her old doctor next week.
Does it sound as if my life is centered around her? I suppose it is. You do what you have to for the ones you love.
Finally, got my studio set up and have been playing music. I’ve got a new song that I quite like. I’m still toying with the idea of putting a new record out, but I have to say, my interest is in writing the other thing now. Maybe, it’s because I’ve lost any desire to play in public and putting out a record just feels like a part of all that. I do know that songwriting is what I do best. Not just songwriting, but creating those songs that capture the quality of the way I experience life. It’s effortless in a way (compared to writing prose!). I can’t imagine ever stopping. I’ve been doing it my whole life. But I lost interest in sustaining a career around recording and performing. It’s too hard to keep it going. The world is a bitch and makes even the most natural and beautiful things ugly and difficult. Better to keep the things you cherish close and private.
By the world I mean society, and not the natural world, of course. The natural world is sacred and perfect. How cavalier we human beings are with all its gifts. We seem determined to destroy every precious thing. It’s clear we’re meant to coexist with all living things, in a perfect environment, yet we’re compelled to destroy it. The caveat. If there’s a “why” I’m interested in, that’s the one. Human beings desperate to understand, to believe. So desperate that incredible stories, myths, fables are created and accepted. But who needs a story when reality is so magnificent? It’s all here! The sky, the earth, the oceans, the mysteries. Magnificent. We’re as clueless as ants building their hills. But a lot more dangerous.
I think of what Karen said the other night. How when you go to school you learn that everything you think, has been thought before and, not just thought, but developed into a philosophy.
Hasta luego, amigos.