I Just Thought I Was Finished
The Writing Jag Part II

[Image: This is my office during the project. No, but, in truth it is photographer Walead Beshty composition, Dismal Science Reading Room, from June 7, 2006, Wit of the Staircase]


So at some point--it was after 4 am.--and the Late Night Mixtape is playing on WRIR, when I realize I'm hearing "Riot On The Radio" and "International War Criminal" each for the second time that I realize, well, I've done it again. And this minor filling task of the Rag-time in Richmond manuscript has turned into a forced march, a slog, and this is still before the whittling down to fit the proscribed size limits and all else that must be done to ready this thing for publication.

Amie got me up, though I complained, to get back at it and now with oatmeal eaten and coffee working here I am. It's October 23, 1909 and things are getting a little hazy. Wish me luck. This puppy has got to get done today, bibliography and all. I sense another very late night.

I'm goin' in.

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Yup, still at it. Break for the pool, much needed, but my right eye is hurting and all the joints of my fingers, and I'm daubing with a cotton swab my upper right canine tooth with an alcohol pain deadener.

It's like midnight and I have two day's worth of work still and one night to do it in. And it's Monday, it's not like I can ask off from work. I'm kind of going nuts, slowly, back here in my time capsule.

Riot On The Radio, indeed.

Amie opened an envelope of my checks this afternoon without thinking and wondering if it was my copy of "New Adventures In Pornography." Which I think is a great blog name, and that's appropriate, since she came up--through my not hearing her correctly--the name for this one.

I have to go splash water on my face and weep a little.