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Well, it’s been a shitty week so far, and I don’t expect today to be much different, so I’m switching off for a few days to plow through what’s on my desk, because it’s all backed up and I still haven’t gotten the newsletter started. Also I caught a look at myself in the mirror and I think I have Pandemic Beard now. I’m not quite at the “sitting in the garden tying twigs and stones into the beard” point, but let’s see where I am by Sunday.
My friend Jason Howard’s new book from Image got announced.
Inbox 17, I have at least one phone conference today, I have a near-permanent mild headache, I probably smell of unwashed cave bear, but the sun is out and I’m not dead yet. I consider this to be entirely good enough for (asks Echo what day it is because who even knows anymore) a Thursday.
I have Bloomberg TV up and everything is red except pharma and digital cinema. The word “cataclysm” is being used a lot. No wonder my brain hurts.
Listening to THE ASCENT TO ABSOLUTE BEAUTY by blacktantra.
Been tied up with a bunch of stuff today, and I have a lot more work stuff to think about, so I’m out, BUT there’s a new Julianna Barwick record coming! juliannabarwick.bandcamp.com for those reading this on IG.
My entire body hurts today, but it could be worse. Also observe this bird batting airborne allergens towards me. It’s that time of year, folks.
Inbox 18. I am still very behind on a lot of things, because my brain is down to 75% of working capacity, so if you’re waiting on something for me, I swear I’ll get to it soon but right now just moving and breathing are challenging enough.
Last night I sat here ordering more pens and gear for my shoulder bag, on the deeply flawed assumption that one day I’ll be allowed outside again. But it felt nice to plan for it, and to get things ready for The After Time. I’ve loaded about five gigs of music on to my phone, I have two working sets of wireless earbuds, and I’m allowed to dream.
Okay, now I have to go back to scanning through a film company’s IP library. And get coffee. Good morning, reader.
I am become Dead, the destroyer of coffee. Literally. Quite, quite dead. Can barely lift my arms today. But I’ve cleared some HEAVEN’S FOREST design work, inbox is at 9, and today I hope to drag this story document that’s been fighting me for a week down to hell with me.
The upstairs flat next door is being ripped out and renovated, because of course this is the perfect time for that, so I’m sitting here listening to buzzsaws and hammers while I try and put myself back together. If he parks his van in my driveway again I’m going to show him exactly where he can store that buzzsaw. I don’t have a prayer of being able to concentrate today.
Oh hey I have CD deliveries
Weekend update. I still have Lockdown Brain, and, frankly, my mind just needs to be blasted into the void. So I switched tracks and knocked out the second draft of HEAVEN’S FOREST 107 instead. I have two story documents and the newsletter sitting there, open and empty, just mocking me.
I have pictures appearing on Twitter from here again, sort of: WordPress Special Projects had to come in and add some code so that my images appear as Twitter Cards, now that Twitter has apparently prevailed upon Jetpack to cease just loading full images directly into Twitter. It would seem that Twitter would prefer if we used Twitter directly to post images, and not syndicate them automatically, which is…. interesting. A silo tightening its lid. We’ve been here before.
Okay, back to picking through the seized-up ruins of my brain. Have a great weekend, reader.
The sun is out and the frost has gone. Within a couple of days, everyone in Britain will stop complaining that it’s cold all the time and will start complaining that it’s warm all the time. Lockdown does at least spare us the sight of men deciding that it’s now time to wander around the high street wearing nothing but trainers and the shorts that fit them perfectly when they were 14 years old.
This story document is giving me hell. It just doesn’t want to go. It stutters and stops. So today I need to take it from the top and see if it flows. If it doesn’t, then the story idea is broken and I need to start from scratch. It happens.
Inbox 15, marking up the boards and pulling down CDs from the shelves for today’s soundtrack. Good morning.
My blu-ray software stopped working this morning, and insists I haven’t paid for it. This is truly the most bullshit timeline. Having the Chernobyl of blind privilege over here.
It’s actually a mild pain in the backside, because I need to arrange for deep focus today, which means putting films on the big screen on mute, playing ambient musics over the top, and turning the internet off.
Aaaaand I’ve just been reminded that I need to start the newsletter today. ffff
Inbox 10, because I’ve pretty much checked out of the human world now. I need to land at least one outline today, and ideally two, but I can feel the rewrite of HEAVEN’S FOREST 107 calling to me — I can see the new scene it needs, so I may end up going into that as well. Doing that now would buy me a few extra days to think about 108. It’s all about borrowing time, sometimes.
We’re down to our last bottle of red wine. Fucking Chernobyl over here, mate.
These are the two notebooks I filled for an original creator-owned comics imprint I was going to do this year. And then the bug happened, and financials and schedules froze and died, and so did the imprint. The last of the artists attached secured long-term work yesterday, meaning everybody who was involved has been released and is in good shape for work for the rest of the year, which has been a source of stress for me, and I’m glad everyone seems to be sorted now. I took this photo before I filed the notebooks away. All over now, and that moment will not come again.
Woke up thinking it was Tuesday. Inbox at a svelte 13, but I have a backed-up load of things to get through today, and I am worn out and I feel like fried shit. MORE COFFEE HERE WE GO
(tries to stand up)
PAINKILLERS THEN MORE COFFEE HERE WE GO HERE WE GO HERE WE GO
Because it is a permanent weekend now. Or a permanent weekday. Not sure. What are days any more
Inbox 27. I am barely in my body and really need to get my shit together today. Or get someone to dump out my brain, rinse it, squeeze it out and put it back in my head. But first I need to clear out the inbox, so it’s not haunting me later. And then write/finish two story documents, attempt to make a proper start on a third, work on my schedule, confirm some phone conferences, keep an eye out for a deal memo, gather the notes for a rewrite, and drink all the coffee I can find in the house. So it’s going to be A Day.
I also want to figure out some stuff in relation to this site. Like, why can’t I send a podcast with title and details from inside Downcast to a WordPress post? It just grabs a link to the mp3 with no related material. I’m trying to log and share shit here. So that will be a project for another time, once my desk is clear and all the coffee is inside me and my brain starts to behave itself.