Oh Ether, how the mind reels when the eyes blur. I have been hard at work re-reading this absurd novel of mine. As you probably know from your cousin, Amorphilacious-Antaginons, I lost some revisions. Oh how the heart breaks when mind the reels. But I only have three chapters left to go over, then some formatting, then off it goes to a prospective publisher--first thing tomorrow morning with apologies for the late response. Do you have the luck to wish me, new friend? Is the Nothingworld's air even fresh enough for such a thing as luck? Is there air at all? A good question as I seem to lose my breath every time I visit its Vacuosity.
And now, despite the blur, break, and reel, here is the bird of the week. The mocking bird. A choice suited for my current state of mind because I feel as if the capricious muses have been prancing about, pointing and giggling, as I suffer through the tedium of revision after revision.
I have a poem with a mockingbird in it. It's called "Morning Beer." But i don't have the energy to hunt it down, fit it in, and suffer the laughter of crows. MAybe another time. Until then . . . see about that luck thing, though I won't hold my breath.
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