jbeauvert: (Default)
Since I'm taking the year off to be a student, I figure I should have some goals.

So I do. It's just general sort of wellness/creativity goals, but it's good to have them.

I want to be sober more often for longer stretches of time.
I want to finish The Commander Dances, Anonymity in the Modern Age, AND Elegant BattleFace Teenagers.
I want to stop looking pregnant.
I want my lungs to stop rattling all the time.
I want to get a book deal.
I want to work on a film.
I want to go on dates with potential instead of sleeping with the same old suspects.
I want to devote more time to writing short fiction.
I want to get enough short fiction published to be eligible for the NEA grant.


I want to find someplace to live forever. I want to find someone to live with forever.
jbeauvert: (Default)
Grief, real extravagant grief may be the hardest thing I've ever experienced in my life. I say extravagant because like drapes and tapestries and silk scarves it covers and pads, muffles and mutes while simultaneously deepening and magnifying every single thing. I am swamped in emotional taffeta, tulle thicker than the air, drowning in a thickness of emotion I would have thought impossible in my small, jaded stupor a few months ago. Now I feel. Almost all of the time. And for all the coverage these are not gauzy feelings of soft lit candles and Rachmaninov, rather they are heavy woolen creations of misery and loneliness, and the lonelier I feel the more heavily barricaded in these emotions I become. I am disappearing even as in some ways I have been completely reborn by this grief. The emotional wretch is being replaced by an emotional wreck. And I can see no way through or out of these feelings.

January 2016



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