I haven’t done one of these photoblogs since June. And now the Summer of COVID is almost over. How did that happen? It seems to have gone on forever, but happening in slow-motion at the same time. Contradictory. Time dilation. Time distortion. Time warp. Time . . .
All fluxed up.
Though I'm not feeling like a mummified lizard. Things have actually been pretty good for me considering the condition the world is in. My writing career not only refuses to die, but has taken on a life of its own, and keeps dragging me into furious activity. Watch this space for important announcements.
Soon.
Of course it leaves me feeling burned out. I really need a vacation at this point. A string of weeks when I can spend a lot of time not moving around much and indulging in absurd amusements would be nice . . .
And I am going on a vacation of sorts. A weird vacation. Mostly inside the car or wearing masks. Social distancing.
Yeah. I'll be writing it up and taking pictures.
I'd also like to work on my novel, you know, Zyx; Or, Bring Me the Brain of Victor Theremin. It needs for me to do some long, serious pick and shovel stuff, not just on-the-run gonzo fragments. I want to at least have a sloppy rough draft done by the hideous conclusion of 2020.
And it's been hot. Arizona's hottest summer on record. Let's that one sink in. Is that sizzling I hear?
Suddenly, I get another email from a professor. He wants to know if I want to participate in a panel about Latinx sf. I asked if it's going to be a virtual panel . . . And of course it is.
That's how my life is. All this apocalyptic stuff, then ZAZZ! It's my career calling with a list demands.
I'm always happy to do the writer stuff--especially if it involves money. You can contact me through this blog, and I'm on Facebook and Twitter. My brain is sizzling and I'm fantasizing about being unproductive just for the sheer hell of it.
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