It was good – convivial, frank, open, easy; there was a lot
to talk about because a lot has happened to both of us over the last 3½ years,
much of it on the psychological front. And yet afterwards I felt rattled. I
felt as I always do in such circumstances – as though I’ve opened up too much,
too easily, which just goes to show what a private person I am beneath this
manic-depressive and generally irrelevant exterior.
That’s why I haven’t made any posts today – too rattled.
Instead I spent the evening editing an old story of mine, one I’ve been holding
back for reasons which I can’t be bothered to explain. It’s about visions of a
talking corpse, a girl with red hair and a green dress, apparent time shifts,
convoluted logic, and a mysterious thin man in a black cloak who seems sometimes
to assume the form of a homicidal cormorant.
One of these days – probably sooner rather than later – I’ll format
it and post it to the other blog.
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