J'ai les cafards.
[I remember vaguely from college French classes that the title of this entry is idiomatic, meaning the equivalent of "I have the blues," though it's literally "I have the cockroaches." I don't have a French dictionary handy, though, so I may be wrong... if not, I think it's a wonderful description, and a bit reminiscent of that Ray Vukcevich story "Home Remedy".]
July 9
It's hot. I've been boiling in my own sweat and irrational stress for a couple of days now. I don't like it, this odd anxiety, mingling with the heat. Characteristics: Sleeping badly. Easily distracted. Difficulty writing. Overwhelmed by minor things. Absolutely emotionally demolished by less minor things. Desire to move away (this is shared by Heather, for different reasons) to someplace cheaper, quieter, less urban, more green, less complicated. At first, I thought it was just work-related stress, but upon considering my work situation, I realized it's not really all that stressful; certainly no more so than it is every other month during the peak of production. Which suggests that it's an internal thing, that it's my inability to deal with things properly rather than any change in my circumstances.
Probably I'm just depressed; just feeling low; that happens, right? But it doesn't happen to me often, so I seldom consider that as the obvious explanation. Anyway, it's better today than it was yesterday. I went down to the village during my lunch break at work (usually, if I take a break at all, I just sit on the back deck and read), got a jamba juice and sat in the shade in the park by the pond. I watched ducks. It helped.
I wrote about 3100 words on Sunday, partly at the computer, partly handwriting. Heather and I went to the Temescal café and worked for a while. Gave my computing hands a break.
Yesterday, Monday, I didn't do much of anything. Heather was physically wiped-out from unpacking all day at work, so going to the gym was out of the question, and I didn't much feel up for it myself. We picked up some sandwiches for dinner and watched A Beautiful Mind, which was quite good despite having some extraordinarily boring stretches.
Tonight I wrote a review of The Red Church (which I think came out pretty well, despite the fact that I feel as though I'm lacking most of my higher brain functions). Made dinner with Heather, salad and pasta and chicken (the latter for me), watched some television, read a bit, frolicked nicely, tried to take it easy. I feel like I have weird little glass baubles inside me, that they might break... it's dreadful. I hope it passes soon. I'm just waiting for the weekend, for the chance to recuperate...
There's some writing news, I suppose. I got my page proofs from Best of the Rest, which I need to look over soon. I found out that my story "Melancholy Shore" is going to be the lead story in the Songs From Dead Singers anthology, la. I'm really looking forward to seeing that antho -- stories by Edo van Belkom, Brian Hopkins, Gary Conner, Charlee Jacob, and other good folks. I got a nice rejection from Full Unit Hook Up. Still waiting to hear back from lots of places about lots of stories, but that's normal.
My novel is still going very well. I did some good stuff on it this weekend. Heather and I had a nice talk about writing this weekend, too... talking through things helped me better understand my own processes...
Good night, all. Wish me luck for a better morning.
Words written since February 1, 2002: 110,700
Words written since last entry: 3,820
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