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March 3, 2017: The Writing Life: Post Op

One thing about being sick. For the first time since previously being sick (whenever that was), I did not at all feel overwhelmed by what I believed I needed to get done. I think this was a survival mechanism kicking in. Being sick is one thing. Being sick and being overwhelmed is quite another. If I had not been sick I would have been bothered by the fact that I also didn’t feel overwhelmed.

I’m gaining speed, strength, drive, initiative, all aspects of my personality that abandoned me this past week. All I could think about was how wretched I felt. At those moments when my soul seemingly left my body I felt wondrous, as if to say this is both awful and remarkable. No one was overly concerned because first of all, I am generally pretty healthy. And secondly, I had a COMMON cold.



In my head I made this into a BIG DEAL because that’s my job, to make that which is COMMON into a BIG DEAL. Even while ill, I celebrated the commonplace. Yes, at one point I thought I had acquired avian flu from Sophie (it killed her) and was on my way to meet her. There I’d be, in chicken heaven, doing the chicken dance, with all the other dead and deranged former inhabitants of planet earth. And now, back to the same old same old, which is my having to deal with the angst that goes hand-in-hand with administrativa, the bane of my existence.

The goat project – I worked on it even while sick. I retyped and revised all the poems that I’ll read and have on display on March 24. I am enjoying doing the revisions. Today Betty and I met for our Hour of Power and talked more about our combined effort. We were chatting about getting the poems and illustrations matted when two women at adjacent tables got up and came over and started owwing and ahhing over Betty’s artwork.

It made me feel good to see Betty beam because, you see, Betty has seen her efforts as being supportive of my efforts. If anything, I told her, it was the other way around. I’ve worked hard to convince her otherwise, but to no avail. This may have clinched it.

Well, one of the women, named Sharon, said she’s involved in the local fiber arts guild, and invited me to their Saturday meeting. So tomorrow I’ll put in an appearance and talk with the group about our project. I’ll also say that we are open to displaying goat fiber artwork, should anyone have any on hand.

More administrative – I also need to do some backtracking. Our cellphone is in Anchorage, and my agility binder is in Chugiak. My wallet, I know where that is, so my short term memory is not totally shot.

Back to goat project. I am going to need to do some serious marketing and let people know about the upcoming reception/reading. Nope, the work is not going to speak for itself. Yep, I need to speak for the work.

Today Betty mentions that we might do a like project in which we focus on horses, humans, and body awareness. This might be even more momentous than the goat project.

The most revelatory thing about all this is that at some point in time I realized that I needed to be the one pushing on writing-related doors, for no one was going to do this for me. This one was forty plus years in coming. I don’t know why I thought otherwise. It’s like I am now making up for lost time, and at lightning speed.

Next: 63. 3/4/17: Eulogy for a Chicken

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