Virgo: In his "MuseLetter," Richard Heinberg writes that Jesus "taught renunciation of ephemeral desires, fearless and carefree public behavior, and contempt for riches." This happens to be a precise prescription for those of you who hope to put yourself in maximum alignment with cosmic rhythms in the coming week. I suggest you suspend your pursuit of the relatively trivial goals that soak up an inordinate amount of your attention, and instead intensify your devotion to your single most important reason for living. This should help you lose your unnecessary inhibitions. It should also free you from any delusions you might have that greed is normal or that you need more than enough of anything.

Me? Unecessary inhibitions? By the sound of it, I have too few inhibitions. Too much urge. Too vital, too much warmth beneath the skin. Driven to distraction. I don't know how to feel about it. Sometimes I wonder if it's strange, odd. What if it really is just me? Me, more than slightly left of normal? Anyway. I woke up feeling exhausted. Dreading today. Worn out and dissatisfied by dreaming. My bed felt so cold. The quiet was not comforting.

My next to last class of driving school is tonight. Three hours of absolute boredom. I've learned nothing in that class that I couldn't have learned by re-reading the driver licensing booklet. There's just me sitting for three hours, shifting uncomfortably in my seat, counting the minutes. Writing letters to keep awake. I think that I might do some actual writing tonight. I've had some stuff floating about in my head lately. The problem with my writing primarily YA stuff for the past year has been that I've neglected other parts of my writing. Darker parts, deeper parts. I have a few poems that need to be pieced together, and a story. I haven't yet decided wether or not to use original characters or play in someone else's universe. It's been so long since I got into others' heads.

On the reading front, my YA kick has been coming to a close for the time being, and I'm ready for something darker. Possibly poetry. I always meant to pick up copies of The Coronary Garden and Dime Store Erotics by Ann Townsend. I saw her read last year, and it was profoundly uncomfortable and inspiring to hear her quiet, smooth voice speaking of blood and windowpanes and the space between skin. There was a gritty layer to it, a profound and solemn wryness.

( The Coronary Garden excerpt.Collapse )

Hmm. Good stuff.

As for the phone meme thing-- ( Read more...Collapse )

...and that is truly all.