I can’t even tell you how many cups of green tea it’s been. Lots of vitamins. Orange juice. Taking it easy (by which I mean sitting at my computer desk as usual).
The good news is that it still hasn’t erupted into that glorious spectrum of fever, chills, and misery one usually associates with the condition, but the bad news is that I’ve been in a sort of headachy, twilight zone all week. Not terribly noticeable while sitting at my desk but instantly recognizable when I have to, say, stand up to make another cup of tea.
The new book is finally rolling along blissfully. I’m about 30 pages in, and one of my characters just dropped this 1918 song into the gramophone. The recording is an original 1918 one, so it’s worth a listen. In fact, I have it blasting right now. Good for the January soul.
Otherwise, we haven’t really been doing anything. The weather is sort of frozen and awful, so I don’t much feel like going out, and I feel sort of awful, so it’s not exactly like I want to do jumping jacks and throw parties, either.
Mostly, we’ve been playing the LEGO Harry Potter game and watching documentaries. Saw a terrifying one on Joan Rivers—not recommended except as a cautionary tale. But, also saw an amazing one on street art and… well, I don’t want to ruin it for you. The nature of art, shall we say? I’m pretty sure Holden Caufield would have some choice words for it. Anyway, the film is called Exit Through the Gift Shop, and it’s really, really, really good.
You should probably see it.
I think that’s about all for me. Truly, my vision gets pretty tunnel-ish when I’m in a word production phase. I think about my book all day. Even in the evenings I sort of stare off in space. There might occasionally be drool on my bib. It’s the nature of the thing.