<blur of perpetual now>
Tuesday. Woke up 5 a.m., wrote Death in the Afternoon, worked on site for New York Public Library, wrote 1200 words for Amazon.co.uk, to be published next month.
2 p.m. lay down on couch with 1950s Perry Mason novel, "The Case of the Daring Decoy," fell into deep two-hour nap.
4 p.m. woke up, cut off hair, washed spiky remains. Began column for PDN-Pix, worked on site for New York Public Library.
11 p.m. a man suspiciously resembling the CEO of a failed Internet startup company delivered Chinese food. Dumplings and egg drop soup. Tipped CEO $3, consumed product, fell into deep two-hour nap.
Wednesday. Woke up 1 a.m., realized that Tuesday had been my mother's birthday, the first since she died.
Looked in mirror, strange new haircut, saw my mother and my brother.
Struggled to finish PDN-Pix column. Felt like work, not like true expression. Kept working until it turned around, became something I needed to write. Kept it pure, polished it to a high clear gloss. 5 a.m. sent column to Reuel, grateful he is the (rare) kind of editor who will actually have the guts to publish it.
Checked mail, checked web, independent web designers insulting each other over misunderstandings. Refrained from comment.
6 a.m., picked up Perry Mason novel, finished it, fell into deep sleep.
Still Wednesday, woke up early afternoon, began deciphering long terse client feedback memo on major project. Three hours into it, answered phone, talked to Victoria about status of book (shipped). Entranced by lovely but lengthy phone call, forgot doctor's appointment. Hung up, phoned doctor to reschedule.
Worked on client site, edited this week's ALA, sent it to Erin for proofreading. Checked web, independent web designers insulting each other over misunderstandings. Refrained from comment.
11 p.m. a man suspiciously resembling the CEO of a failed Internet startup company delivered Chinese food. Dumplings and egg drop soup. Tipped CEO $3, consumed product, fell into deep three-hour nap. Progress.
26 April 2001
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