Run Spot. Run.

There. There's your almost-haiku for the month of July.

Seriously, I haven't been sleeping well lately. Yesterday I slept until 2:00, but I never did feel rested. This morning I was up 'til 4 working on the outline for a story I've been thinking about. I wrote longhand, and I don't think anybody other than me would understand the sentence structure.

Which brings me to my problem as a writer. (Did I just call myself a writer? Guh.) I really hate to suck and it keeps me from drafting. Objectively, I know that in order to produce anything decent, it is virtually imperative to go through several drafts that bite the wax tadpole. I know this as fact. It's not as if the dread of sucking has stopped me from allowing sub-par diary entries to go up and even stay in the archives...

Did I mention that I have PMS?

Anyway, I had a scant four hours sleep last night/this morning. I'm supposed to go to New York tomorrow for Fruvous shows and just to get away from home for a bit. There's way too much to do...

Oh, note to Cubiclegirl, who may or may not read this diary: It's possible to have great hair and a lousy life. Trust me on this one. It is also possible for your hair to lie to you -- and to other people, but I don't know which is more important -- about who you are. What I'm sayin' is your own hair is about as trustworthy as the average man... so, you know.

Note to everybody: My e-mail address has changed, but I updated the diaryland address to forward someplace that works.

My clock says 9:42, and I am going back to bed.

before - after