Trauma is a strange beast. No matter how much you pat her in your lap to keep her calm, you know sooner or later, with one quick neck whip – she bites you, again.
Everyone on Earth experiences trauma to a certain degree. I feel like anyone who disagrees with that might be still in some type of denial period.
Matters of the heart are among my top traumatizing periods. Like now, for example.
Yesterday was a “no deal with world” day. One of my favorite things about being a Writer is that I can work from anywhere, with very little number of resources required. So yesterday, I worked from home. And then I went to sleep, at 5.30.
I slept until 6.30 this morning to the dismay of one of my Brooklyn people who called six times last night and then again this morning.
Sometimes people get nervous when I disappear. Usually they’re wondering what country I’m going to phone them from, eventually. I think my friend last night just wanted to make sure I’m still alive.
It’s been a bit like that lately.
On a side note, I’m kicking around 60,000 words of a particular project that I may like enough to make novel one. After that I’ll switch gears back to sorting poetry. But after three poetry books and a movie, novel seems to make the most sense at this point.
At least today I’m leaving the apartment. Probably because it’s raining, there’s something to that I can handle. The grey.