June 2nd, 2007

woods, Elizabeth, camera, April

Nose, grindstone on, sore

My neck hurts.  My shoulders hurt.  My brain hurts.  Supposedly going to David S-'s birthday party last night should have relieved that, but it didn't...partly because of the traffic driving into the city, and then the traffic on the way home.  I was wiped.  I feel blah this morning, but...the chapters still need writing. 

And I'm eyeing my personal internal blacksnake whip of motivation with utter loathing.  I know how the book comes out...why do I have to write the rest of it?  (whine, whine, whine)

Because, of course, some of you want to read it, and my publisher will dump me like ballast  off a hot-air balloon if I don't turn it in on time.

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