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No working out, no writing to speak of, and dreadful, dreadful dreams early this morning that seem to have left me with a sort of hangover...yet again a Hostel-like situation in which somebody was being tortured until they were a barely-articulate, barely-recognizable lump who ended up betraying their friends and not even earning a clean death. Where does this stuff come from? Later, it was Keanu Reeves and children hiding from the Terror during the French Revolution, to no avail. Now my eyes itch and gum, and I have to go look at badly-formatted scripts for four hours straight.

OTOH, the asshole class was fine yesterday, Mr Freaky included, so perhaps that will carry over. And I also got quite a bit of potentially interesting mail--various professional possibilities, not worth talking about in detail 'til/if they materialize, but exciting nonetheless. Almost as though a subconscious signal were going out, attracting good karma along with the usual self-hating psychological contortions.

Meanwhile, even without a word-count worth recording, "The Jacaranda Smile" is making me plumb depths I haven't explored in quite some time. I'm obviously going to have to fight hard to make sure this protagonist, though "me", doesn't end up being JUST me; that'd suck, as well as just be lazy.

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handful_ofdust

June 2022

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