MORE ANON

So I am still adjusting to life after Mom and Debee. Spending a solid week with no real down time, no real interior monologue time, and out of my own house has me still being intellectually and spiritually displaced.

That is not to say that there aren't perhaps some fresh perspectives but I am not yet back to focus and purpose in a pro-active way. Is that double-speak?

I think I cannot hear myself again.

Tonight was the Smart Woman's Book Club wherein we discussed Jonathan Lethem's The Fortress of Solitude. Several of us had not finished the book. There was an intense discussion. I am not too fond. It is a difficult book, not without merit, but, for my money, needed another two rewrites to be a work of literature.

I am also tired. Jeez, you all say. Who wants to read someone saying they are tired all the time? The declaration of tiredness must be related to the late night writing. And methinks I should assign a time earlier in the day for this endeavor rather than relegating it to a late night attempt.

I do have things I want to chatwrite about: mood farts, the death of Steve Jobs, running out of money, not to mention some stories from the recent road trip with Mom and Debee. But I cannot muse in depth and I might as well admit it and move on to sleep.