These last two moths have been very surreal and difficult. My father died (I come from a small family and we are quite close), my son was born, I stopped working at one job and began staying home to take care of Painter (the baby), while the other job I had closed down, rendering me completely unemployed. Also, my little brother is horrible ill with chronic sinusitis, most likely related to Toxic Mold Poisoning from an old house he lived in for awhile. In addition to all of this, my publishing has hit it's worst slump since I started submitting to various presses. I've been receiving rejection after rejection, daily, since almost exactly the day Painter was born. At least rejections are better than no response at all. That drives you mad.
pliability, flexibility, elasticity, suppleness, bounciness, springiness
spirit, hardiness, toughness, strength, buoyancy, resistance
So, in general, I'm a mess. I somehow feel sad, dejected, elated, deflated, crushed, injected, proud, horrified, empathetic, sympathetic, pathetic, and like I've just woken up on one of those revolving doors that they use for hotel entrances.
On a side note, I started a poetry group accessible from my main page. Here's a link for anyone interested: The Succrestar Ltd. The name is an old in-joke between some friends and myself, but doesn't entirely matter. There are 3 members so far, but it's early and I did invite a few others.
Well, I'm home alone right now and Painter just woke up. Plus, I have poems to write and a play to finish typing. I'll update soon.