It's still chilly. I've spent the morning trying to edit one of several looooooooooooonnnnng essays about the contemporary fire service. I'm not going Johnathan Franzen about it--because I don't have the skills, for I certainly would if I could--but my tendency to seen a massive, interconnected narrative severely impedes my progress in the short form. I'm making some progress with this revision/edit. Went through it proof-wise last week and have been altering and arranging the paragraphs into a cohesive, linear, reader-pleasing flow (or that's the thought). But I'm just mired in the shit, and around each new pp I find another section. It all fits (says he who sees the macro in the micro) but I'm trying to keep it fluid/flowing. Too, this is the same challenge/problem I have with two other VERY similar essays. In fact, I've started them over the past several years to alleviate the stuckness I found myself in with each successive essay. My hope is that I'll smooth this one out, then be able to condense and integrate the trio of 'em into one gorgeous whole....... Sure, kid.
As I wander the house to clear my head, I find myself chilled. Not enough movement of blood while sitting and typing. Plus, it's fucking cold outside. And I turned off the heat to spite God or Mother Nature, those abusive, negligent parents of us all. How's that working out, slugger? I was coming down the stairs when my stupid new slipper/houseshoe slipped off my foot. Before I could do ANYthing, both feet shot out from beneath me, I flipped onto my ass hard, and bounced down the remaining four steps, smashing both heels on the tile floor. I sat for several moments, taking stock. Fuck me. That hurt. And it happened so fast, even MY cat-like reflexes couldn't prevent it. Neither heel is broken. No ankle twists. My elbow struck the wall and the stairs, but it's fine. My right shoulder was jarred pretty good when the elbow hit the step, but it remains in place.
And this is how the end will come, I thought, dropped down the stairs by my five dollar rubber slats, left to writhe, cry, and bleed out on the kitchen floor... Ick. So many bad ways to go out.
Speaking of such, my friend shared a video from her town in NM where a mountain lion strolled onto the porch to sun itself and lap some water. A mountain lion. Big, strong, fierce, deadly cat. Another BAD way to go out.
Annie's off to Philly for a fortnight to work on a project. Surveillance and public space. It's cool to see the ways she can explore her devious interests w/o becoming a drug mule or moonlighting mommy hooker... I appreciate that the kids aren't unsteady so our travels don't give them bad feelings or cause meltdowns.
I'm off to pedal to clear my mind. Glad the winter gear hasn't been stored yet. Hope I don't get swallowed by a pothole.
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