it's a great life, if you don't weaken (matociquala) wrote,
it's a great life, if you don't weaken
matociquala

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if you should die, die in winter


STATE OF THE CHILL:

words since 9:00 AM Saturday: 554 1008 1761 2002 2104
sleep since 9:00 AM Saturday: 6 hours
hours in deathmarch so far: 18.5
showers: 1
pages written: 11
pots coffee: 1 (with some vanilla ground up in it)
large mugs salabat:
pots tisane:
pots tea: 
2 (white chai, mangosteen green tea) +1 mug of Upton's Christmas Tea
It Came From The Juicer: Beet greens, garlic, and radishes. Apple lemonade.  Beet apple mango nectar. Tangerine orange ginger carrot.
alcohol: La Fin du Monde and honey pepper vodka
drugs: 1600 mg. naproxen, 1 OTC Zantac
head: throbbing (a tension headache courtesy of the current state of my neck)
dancing: S.A.F.E.T.Y.
handfuls of nutritional supplements: 2 (fish oil, evening primrose, calcium, b complex, glucosamine chondroitin)
food: corned beef hash and eggs; layer cake; Barilla "Plus" angelhair with chicken, defatted chicken drippings, green peas, butter, and parmesan; gouda, cheddar, and grapes; more cake; sesame paste steamed bun; lamb dumplings "flavored with oyster flavored sauce";
BPAL: Jacob's Ladder.
mug: pornographic bunnies
state of the catbox: fearful
hands: achy

last night before I bed I wrote: Okay, that's fifteen hours of work, and in the last two hours I've managed a page. Also, the brain chemistry fit is letting up (yay, rapid cycling, bite me neurochemistry) which tells me that now (NOW!) is a good time to try to sleep.

More deathmarch at dawn. Sleep now.

Now: currently stuck like a stuck thing trying to decide whose POV this next scene is from.

Tags: jacob's ladder, with your draft or on it
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