Yesterday was a Pain In the Ass (PITA) day, where I tried to get caught up on practical stuff. I made a decent dent in it, although by no means did I do everything on the list.
This morning, I got up felt the patio window, and realized I needed to start getting my ass packed out the door earlier in the morning again: it’s not even March and it’s already hot enough that I had to turn back pretty early because I was sweating too much and the sun was too bright–and I was walking in too many open areas.
But I was also getting extremely fussy about taking pictures. Everything was “stupid” and “useless” this morning while I was taking them. “Why do I bother? How will this make me money?” Blah blah blah. “I know what I’m doing, I’m not learning anything new, it’s not fun anymore.” I tentatively decided on taking some photography classes on Skillshare.
Got home, took my allergen-eradicating shower, the light came on: Three-Pointer, one of the characters in my WIP, the super-smart one who causes most of the chaos, had another trick to have pulled and that comes to light at the end of B3, and drives most of the rest of the series.
Me: Uh-huh. Buddy, just come on out and talk to my face. Don’t undermine my love of taking snapshots while I’m on my walk with your damn cynicism. I’ve been asking for your council for 20K words now.
Three-Pointer: You didn’t need to know *then.* [Narrows eyes] You had other scenes to worry about.
Me: Yeah, but I was worried. That I couldn’t come up with anything else.
Three-Pointer: Did you think I wouldn’t stir up more shit? Nah, you just worry about getting Mr. Assassin over himself.
Me: Sure. Who’s gonna get you over YOURself?
Three-Pointer: [Smugly] Nobody. Now go write about people who are stupider than me. You’re good at that.
…
I have a craving for weird cooking projects. Up soon, tacos al pastor, at least, as best as I can get them without a grill. Plus a couple of other weird things. I tried making a gin martini with mirin the other day and I think it would have worked if I had had better mirin (I like extremely dirty martinis, so the salt wasn’t a problem). As it was, it dumbed down my nice gin instead of making it drool-worthy. Eh. Not everything is an instant success, but I really wanted something savory. I might pick up a small bottle of vermouth to play with. I suspect I don’t “get” vermouth yet, so I don’t know how to riff off it or around it. On the other hand, I have gin, tonic, and pickled red onions going begging at the moment. Hm. Maybe I should pick up some bourbon, too. I want to set some orange peels on fire…
The other ear finally popped! It’s sooooo much easier to do do that up in Denver. Drive a couple of miles toward the mountains, problem solved. Painfully, if necessary. I can still hear the reverb from inside the skull pretty loudly on the one side. Still an improvement. Sang a bit to celebrate; ear closed up every time I went higher, then drained some gross stuff. C’est la guerre.
Today: write, work on writing class, grocery shopping, get caught up on posting photos. And let Three-Pointer start venting his everlasting spleen on the page instead of all over my morning walk.
…
Feather from out at the park, just above some floating water weeds.
A bottle that is a maze – the latest Midjourney project. I went, “What art do I need to see this morning?”