I should have been saying no lately to all sorts of deadlines new projects pieces-parts to write for what not but instead I keep on saying yes yes I will yes...
a bit of neurosis in honor of Bloomsday. Not put upon or performed, this is actually my life, where I have a book I am carrying around with me, like Henry Miller's pregnant tumor, a book I am supposed to birth SOON, and I take on various reviews for places. VARIOUS. and other things, I am at this stage as a newborn writer where I keep on getting asked for things, like readings and whatnot and I KEEP ON SAYING YES. because i want to. but then.
and funny I am freaking out over writing the BLURBS for bhanu's and daniel's book. The BLURBS. I can write a bloated overlong manuscript and vomit out massive essays but a BLURB is like a mouse to me and I am a 50s housewife on a chair. Can't kill it.
This is turning into a journal today. That's terrible.
I was chastised yesterday for not using proper punctuation in places.
The person was obviously not JOYCEAN.