Today was better, but only slightly. After observing me for a bit tonight, Terry remarked that she is finally seeing me in my tortured artist phase; she offered up wine, but I know that the gods of tortured artists are pretty similar to the gods of alcoholics, so I'm holding off on the sweet nectar until I see whether I can pull this out without its dubious help. I don't know what it was that tipped her off to my tortured state -- was it my mismatched pajamas at 7pm? My denuded, makeup free face and my bangs swept back from my forehead with barrettes since I couldn't be bothered to dry them? My extremely bushy white-haired eyebrows that are usually hidden by said bangs, but were a very Edgar Allan Poe/"Fall of the House of Usher" allusion to the wild thicket that is my mind? My generally odd behavior, which including watching, soundless, as she made dinner for herself?
Really, I have no idea what tipped her off.
But, I did manage to write today -- and I emerged from the grim, grey anteroom of my despair with six pages clutched in my fierce and desperate grasp, so I'll take 'em. It's not enough, and I think I'm going to have to exercise the nuclear option at some point in the next few days (perhaps next weekend) and possibly pull a senior-thesis style bit of madness to write the number of pages necessary to get to a full new draft of Malcolm and Amelia's book. My mother called me today to cheer me up; after I recounted Malcolm and Amelia's woes, she thought that her pep talk hadn't gone as well as she had intended, but as it turns out, it was better than staring at the wall and despairing -- so thank you, Jeanie baby!
Terry came home sometime after dark, and we talked for awhile, which was nice. Then we decided to watch an episode of "Bones" while she ate her supper. That episode was the season finale from season three, and I was extremely upset and angry afterwards because a main character was cut from the storyline in an utterly ridiculous way. However, Terry told me that years later, the head of the show admitted that he had originally intended to kill the character, but at the last minute couldn't do it because he liked the actor too much, and so he flipped and turned the guy into a villain rather than killing him off entirely. This was a valuable writer lesson to never let emotion/pity get in the way of killing off someone who needs to die. Note that I considered this a valuable writer lesson, not a valuable lesson -- although if any of you need someone who will pull the plug with a medical power of attorney someday, I'm your guy. I'm only doing it to keep you from turning into a cannibalistic serial killer, I promise.
I fear that I have said too much, so now that I have watched another two episodes of "Bones" to mourn that character and written up a document for the awards ceremony I'm planning, I shall go to bed. I have to train with Alyssa tomorrow, who will no doubt be annoyed that I sustained myself on tuna salad and trail mix today -- she doesn't get the tortured artist thing, I don't think. Goodnight!
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