Jean Paul Richter said, “For sleep, riches and health to be truly enjoyed, they must be interrupted.” To Richter’s triumvirate I’d like to add “writing”.
Last Friday I tweaked my back.
It felt like a pinched nerve, the way the pain zipped THROBBED and then radiated throughout my lower back. I could walk, I could even put my own shoes and socks on. (The last time I injured my back—pulled muscle—I couldn’t even manage that first-grader’s feat.) I considered calling in sick to work (I’m a waiter) but the back actually felt better walking than sitting so I ate some cookies and ibuprofen and drove to work. I managed a shift with more discomfort than pain, returned home for more ibuprofen and cookies.
And woke up screaming a few hours later with back spasms.
Penny pulled me from bed and deposited me into a hot bath. From the bath I went for a walk and my back hurt, but it was doable as long as I was upright and walking. Sitting stiffly on a wooden chair was okay, so I watched a little college football on t.v. and went off to work. The stiffness—and pain—abated and returned repeatedly but there was one position that was excruciating and impossible.
Sitting at my desk leaned over the keyboard.
So except for some longhand writing at the dining room table on the aforementioned wooden chair I haven’t written for 10 days. I’m currently serializing my newest novel Tantric Zoo on Red Room (redroom.com/member/rob-loughran) but I do that seated (you guessed: wooden chair) with the keyboard on my lap. This is the first “real” writing I’ve done in a week-and-a-half.
Sonuvabitch, I missed it.
Don’t know why; don’t care to know why.
I just missed it.
The theme of this bloggity-bullshit-blog-blather (so far) has been how to publish and sell in the new e-format but these last, almost two weeks, when I haven’t been able to spend time in the company of all the perverts and murderers and rakes and whores and fuckers I write about have been miserable.
And right now (1:48 AM, PST) I can’t sleep, my back hurts, but it’s allowed me about 40 minutes at the keyboard so as to write another misguided installment of this bloggity-bullshit-blog-blather.
I feel pretty good, but please pass the cookies and ibuprofen....
JOKE OF THE DAY
Who is Al Qaida’s favorite football team?
The New York Jets.