…delivering the first hundred pages of your next book to a waiting editor. Thus, one must imagine me happy (and yes, the reference is intentional). I dropped it off, I came home, I don’t have anywhere to go tonight, and what am I doing? Blogging, of course. But briefly, briefly! I’m really sitting in front of my iBook, listening to Donald Fagen’s “Century’s End” and running my fingers idly over the keyboard, somewhat in the manner of a roomful of monkeys, because I’m soooo burned out. Too much. I think I wrote 20,000 words in the past week and a half. Maybe more. Yikes. Ouch.
Anyway, these are the last words that will ever cross my lips, at least until tonight, when I post tomorrow’s almanac entry and drama-column teaser, and then I am going to bed. No alarm. No phone. No nothing.
I’m trying to figure out what this posting is about. I guess it’s about being so tightly wired that the process of becoming unwired takes a few hours. At least.
Oh, now I remember what I was going to tell you: I’m not reading my blogmail this week. Forgive me. I’ll read it next week.
Enough. See you tonight.