Lockdown: The muse wants blood

(I wrote the first part of this Thursday review on Friday evening. I wrote the second part Saturday afternoon, past five o’clock)

After a short nap, I got up, brushed my teeth, and got back to work. Finally, sometime past sunrise Thursday, I got these letters drafted. Two versions of the same short letter because I didn’t like the first one, although I think there’s a good idea in there somewhere. My supervisor later agreed: the second version was better, but we’re holding on to the first version for ideas in another publication.

I took another nap, about forty-five minutes in the late morning, then got up and just cranked out the story that’s been killing me. It’s still not great, but it’s better than it was, and here’s what I think happened: I was back in my accustomed (‘though not recently experienced) state of extreme sleep deprivation, a condition I’ve done a lot of writing in, desperate, exhausted, undistracted writing.

File under: stupid writer tricks.

Anyway, the paralysis seems to be broken. I’ll take it, and I will hopefully ride the momentum into Friday, my usual most productive day.

I did a few chores after work, watched the news, and grabbed takeout for dinner from Ahi & Vegetable. A lovely sashimi salad, with ahi, salmon, and hamachi. I was craving fresh raw fish and some uncooked greens.

Breakfast was a can of chili on leftover hapa rice. My fridge is low on fresh things, although I have a few eggs, some broccoli I keep forgetting about, and some Portuguese sausage, among a few other things I could probably toss together. I skipped lunch. Snacked a little on maple creme Oreos.

It’s disheartening to stay up (practically) all night to produce what should be just a few hours’ worth of writing. The self-loathing and dread are kind of demoralizing, partially because I know it’s not just this weird magical aspect of creating. It’s distractibility, laziness, and avoidance. Yes, writing can be very difficult, and forcing difficult work out of wherever it comes from is a kind of painful. But I know how to do it, and I know it’s better to just get it out, but I still have days, nights, and weeks like this.

It’s hyberbole rooted in some amount of truth: it’s like opening a vein sometimes.

I watched Pitch Perfect again as I ate my lovely sashimi salad. I haven’t even watched most of the bonus material, the primary reason for the purchase; nor have I moved on to the sequels. I think I’ll just watch the sequels and then get back to the bonus materials, which include two commentary tracks on the original film.

I don’t expect to get stuck rewatching the sequels. Pitch Perfect is entertaining, engaging, well-intentioned, and terribly flawed. Its sequels are stupid and really stupid, and progressively less entertaining, although still kind of engaging on the strength of their casts.

I think I only texted with Crush Girl Thursday. A lot of back-and-forth throughout the day about dinner choices, some common friends, and this online puzzle game we’ve both gotten into. I’ve known about it for some time, but never got into it until I found out she was hooked on it. Now I spend about fifteen minutes a day on it, usually after I do the crossword.

As you can see, I usually have some room in my day for more texting or DMing. If you need someone to connect with, just hit me up in the comments.

It was a productive but miserable day. I was happy to turn in early.

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