Opposites Attract

Tuesday morning and all is well here on the western front, Or is this the eastern front? It is, after all the East Bank of the river. I’m a little confused here–what else is new? Only one Gregalicious can write an opening sentence for a blog post and immediately confuse himself.

Could be that I am also a little on the groggy side this morning. I slept very well again last night, and didn’t want to get out of bed this morning…not that I ever do, just that this morning I could have quite easily gone back to sleep for several hours. This doesn’t bode well for tonight’s workout for after work, does it? It will probably turn out to be terribly easy for me to talk myself out of going, which isn’t a good thing at all. But I do feel rested this morning–much more rested than I have in a while, frankly–so that’s got to be a good thing, even if I am not feeling particularly motivated this morning.

I started working on deep dives into the two novellas last night, rather than starting Chapter Two of Chlorine, which, while not completely disgraceful, isn’t necessarily good. I also wrote about twenty thousands words, average, on the two novellas without knowing an awful lot about the characters in either or who they are/were; kind of letting the writing fall where it may as it went. I do think both turned out well, and I like the endings of both of them–both seem inevitably perfect for each story–and I do like the characters a lot. It’s fun exploring the back stories of the characters and what led them to the points they each were in at the time the stories take place; it’s also fun getting inside their heads and seeing how their behaviors were being interpreted and seen in ways they didn’t completely understand–it would have never occurred to them that they were being seen the way they actually were; this is clearly more important in “Festival” than in “Stranger.” But having this will be helpful when I started revising the stories, and editing.

So, tonight when I get off work I have to run some errands, go to the gym, and try to get some writing/editing/etc done. Yay! I do feel as though as I can start getting back on top of everything, though–hard as that may be to comprehend–primarily because I am sleeping again. That lengthy bout of insomnia I had in May was the absolute worst it’s ever been; I can deal with it here and there, but not when it’s every fucking night for several weeks in a row.

Sleep–I will never take it for granted ever again.

Ever.

It looks like my work schedule is likely going to change again in August; I think it’s going to involve coming in later on Tuesdays and Thursdays but still coming in early on Mondays and Wednesdays, which is fine. It’ll take me a bit to get used to the different wake-up times, but I can handle staggered getting up early mornings easier than I can consecutive ones, if that makes any sense (probably not to anyone besides me; I have gotten accustomed to things that make perfect sense to me not making sense to anyone else). August is going to be an interesting month, especially since I am turning sixty during the course of it.

Which reminds me, our 26th anniversary is next week!

My, has time marched on, right?

One of the interesting things for me about writing “Stranger” has been setting it in the summer of 1994 in New Orleans; trying to remember what music was popular that summer, where people shopped, what New Orleans was like in that hot broody summer–there was still a Maison Blanche on Canal Street where the Ritz Carlton is now; K&B Drugstores still dotted the city; there were video stores still; the Riverwalk Mall wasn’t an outlet mall yet; the Camp Street on-ramp to nowhere was still there on the neutral ground in front of the Coliseum Theater, which was also still ther; and the Lower Garden District’s gentrification was still at least three to four years in the future. It’s also weird going back to a time before protease inhibitors and the drug cocktail for HIV; the shadow of death still hung weirdly suspended over the gay community of the city at the time. That was kind of the point of writing about that year, weirdly enough–it really wasn’t that long ago. I hope the point I am trying to get across in the story actually comes across, as well…but then again, one never knows, does one?

And on that note, I am heading back into the spice mines. Have a lovely Tuesday, Constant Reader, and I’ll check in with you again tomorrow morning.

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