sleep come free me.

I’d really like to get that sleep, though. Please and thank you, whoever you are that has me awake.

daydreaming and i’m thinking of…

Trip the light fanstastic with me for a while, will you? Let’s be silly and daydream.

Picture It, Some Time from Now, Somewhere: yours truly’s first novel and memoirs have simultaneously landed on the New York Times Bestsellers List, Fiction and Nonfiction, respectively, and have landed quite well. What will happen next? Cue dream music…

He will conduct my first interview.

I will wear this.

He will want the rights to the novel.

He will want the rights to the novel.

He will want the rights to the novel.

Dinner with her twice a week.

I’ll live here.

And here.

That marvelous lady on the left, she who birthed me and stopped herself from leaving me somewhere when I was a teenager, will finally get her HGTV home.

Reflections of the Weekend that Used to Be.

This past weekend was interesting.

A dream is an answer to a question we haven’t learned how to ask. I had a pretty vivid dream during the weekend. Other than the fact that reading all these mysteries is clearly having an impact on the old subconscious—I was solving a crime with a ragtag group of amateur investigators—the dream was intriguing for another reason. At one point, a dream character (i.e., no one I know in real life) turns to me and says, “You need to move to Los Angeles.” So…yeah. Curious, being that my initial desire, before the desire to move to Europe manifested itself, was to head to the West Coast and settle down there. I was actually looking for jobs, readying my resume, the whole process. I recognize that it was only a dream, but…have I learned to ask myself whether the West Coast is the viable choice? Viable in comparision to Europe, which is far less about practicality and wanting to satisfy my Europhile wishes? Was the question cushioned somewhere in the back of my mind, waiting to be answered in a dream? Heavy questions for a dream that was largely about solving a crime in the Hollywood Hills. Nevertheless, very, very interesting…

 

 

After silence, that which comes nearest to expressing the inexpressible is music. I’ve long discussed my passionate love of music on this forum. This quote takes all my exclamations and feelings and oohing and aahing and pontificating and wraps it up in one startling, amazing sentence. Not much else needs to be said. As far as the weekend is concerned, other than crazy dreams, I overdosed musically. Downloading songs, getting lost in them, allowing music to push my days forward. For the record, I’d just like to say that Sara Bareilles’  album, Kaleidoscope Heart, may be one of the more touching, honest, heartbreaking, and intelligent records I’ve heard in a long time. It would be nice to see artists like Sara drowning in media love, instead of artists like the Bieber. Just saying.

The short end of my interesting weekend. Onwards with this Manic Monday…

Something Wicked this way Comes

There’s something very powerful and wicked about the weekend. Your brain turns to mush, you do weird, silly things, and you eat like there’s no tomorrow. Rather, I should say that I ate like there was no tomorrow this past weekend. I’m mostly good during the week with the eating…and then comes the dizzying combination of Saturday and Sunday, when I appear to go stark-raving mad with the food. Granted, I attended a gathering or two, which meant that I had to eat, you know, not to be rude or anything. I could literally feel the bean (another name for the belly) happily expanding. We shall see what next weekend will bring.

Another wicked, powerful thing? A busy schedule during the week and said weekend. It’s the reason behind my lack of writing since last Thursday. It takes over everything; even though a little voice in the back of your head continually reminds you to turn on the laptop when you finally get home, you ignore it and jump in the car for the next excursion. And when you do finally arrive at home at the very end of the day, you opt instead to watch Masterpiece Theater’s new rendering of Jane Austen’s Persuasion, which was AWESOME. Sigh. It was Austenriffic. In other words, I love my schedule and there are a number of things that fill up the day, so the writing sometimes tends to become expendable. It happens. Nevertheless, I was thinking about writing, which is half the battle, I presume.

Incidentally, years ago, my former manager told me that he woke up at dawn every morning to do some writing. He added that most serious writers do the same. Riiight. This one values her sleep and her beautifully odd dreams. So, no. There simply has to be a more lucid way.