"Like a novocaine hurricane"

July 24

I went to the dentist today, to have a cavity (only my second one ever!) filled. That was four hours ago, and I still have a numb half-face. I had to drink coffee only on the right side...

Still, the physical sensation is interesting. I wonder why my lip feels swollen when really it's only numb? My brain is having trouble interpreting this sensation and relaying it in an entirely comprehensible fashion. That's rather fascinating. How many other things does my brain get wrong in the course of the day? And since my brain is, truly, the only interface I have with the "real world," can it be said to get anything "wrong"? Where's my frame of reference?"

Those are the sort of things I think about while staring at the ceiling of a dentist's office. Brains in vats, white ravens, epistemology. Whether hypnosis might be more healthy than novocaine (or really lidocaine, I guess, probably). My dentist is this older, affable, country jokey guy. He works fast, though. I have good teeth, he tells me (actually, "fine looking" teeth), but bad gums. Ah, well. I'll drink more O.J. It's not like they bleed when I brush my teeth or anything-- how bad can they be? They appear to be the right color...

Ah. As I write this, sensation is returning to my tongue! Good. I can eat something soon, then (I'm too epicurean to eat while my sense of taste is impaired! Plus, I'd probably merrily gnaw off my own tongue).

July 25

I got my rejection from the Warner First Novel Contest today. I wasn't expecting that for another couple months at least... Ah, well. The odds were rather against me, I know, but I'd hoped. At least the contest prompted me to get the manuscript in shape, and write a synopsis. There were benefits to my entering. I would have let that manuscript languish, otherwise. Lately rejections are falling on me like a rain of fish on Charles Fort-- most of them plain ol’ forms. I’m not especially discouraged by this-- you guys know how it is. You get used to it. I write because I love doing so. I’d like to share what I write with people, and I’d love for people to pay me for the privilege of reading my work, but those aren’t the driving factors.

This is going to be the last entry for a bit. Tomorrow night I’m hauling my desk away to the thrift shop, and I don’t see myself lying prone on the carpet to see the screen of my computer (no sporty highly-evolved lap-top for me-- I’m working on an australopithecene desk-top, here). I’ll still be able to check my email at Espresso News, the coffee shop of the discerning gourmand, so if any of you wanted to send me bon voyage notes, I’ll receive them. I’m leaving early Tuesday, August 1st, and expect to reach California on August 12th, barring the unforeseen. I’ll try to get some sort of entry, however sketchy, incomplete, sub-coherent or hysterical it might be, up shortly thereafter.

I’d miss y’all too much if I stayed away any longer.