OH, the troubles of the week are deep. Too deep for the light of the web. But they're there. With the eels, no doubt!
And it feels like a bolt has been thrust between my forehead and ear. It really does. From the mid-left forehead to the inside of my right ear.
*
If it seems that the problem with this forum is that the material that would be most revealing, difficult, insightful, or challenging oftentimes has to be left out, then it gives us hope.
See! That's what fiction is for! You can wrangle with those themes in stories and leave yourself out of it. All fuel for other hours.
Bubbs has recovered nicely from her surgery. I made nachos for dinner, and tried to roast peanuts but burnt them, sadly. Instead of hitting shuffle, I'm listening to albums and artists. I suspect this is because my attention span, once again focused on books, is taking root and sucking up the necessary nutrients.
I fucking love Charles Portis. Please read him someday. I'm reading him now. Despite everything, he makes me deeply happy, and I wonder why so few comic novels make the canon -- Huck Finn! The Trial! What else is there?
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