Well, it's here. Wonder what it holds? All I know is that next month mercury goes into freaking retrograde at the time that the publishers will be reading my thing.
Last night, I'd been asleep a couple of hours when I thought a net of spiders was floating down onto me. I bolted from the bed, ran to the door in the dark, went to the bathroom and sat on the loo shaking. I have never been so terrified.
What the fuck.
I'm unable to concentrate on fiction so am re-reading some other non-fictiony things. I'm writing a very little. Drifting around the house a bit. Doing lots of clothes washing. Little domestic things, like some cleaning.
I bought a new couch.
I've been re-watching lots of movies again (The Exorcist (doesn't hold up). Adaptation (3rd time, excellent especially if you write). Being John Malkovich (still didn't like it). Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (preferred it this time). Melancholia (really liked it, so different). Also re-watching stuff, like I think I mentioned Girls, but I've also watched all of Chris Lilley from Heroes to Summer to Angry. All excellent. Been singing Mr G's songs and even S.Mouse's around the house.
It's such a waiting game. I should be working on a love story to submit for something end of next month. I should be writing a new short story for another submission for end of May but I don't really have any ideas for that one. I should be working on some essays - one on flying in planes, another on hair, another on Gallipoli. When I think of it like that, it makes me a bit frozen. And I'm waiting, still, for notes for the current one that I will have to read, consider, and then do one more revision. Quickly. Because time is important... did I say that already?
But instead, I waste my time on twitter and other shit.