thud busy tired

I had a perfectly wonderful weekend and then seem to have turned the rest of the week into stress and late nights and no sleep, for perfectly good reasons that still leave me feeling rather burnt out. (Brothers Bloom is not the brilliant revelation that Brick was but is still worth seeing.) And this weekend is "relaxing" by driving down to the beach to spend several days with my dad's extended family, and next week is rislyn's wedding, and the week after is Origins, and the week after that is the Fourth which is the proximate cause of some amount of this week's stress.

The damnable thing about all this is that I actually started writing again on Sunday. It was difficult and emotional and I collapsed at the end of it, and even so it felt so bloody good to be doing again. I'd utterly forgotten the joy of piecing together the right words, of turning the lightning bug into the lightning, of finding out why it is you really ought to go five miles out of your way instead of cutting through the greenwood between the towns. (I still don't know, but I understand the ways in which I don't know. It makes sense to me.) And then. . . nothing. No time, no energy.

my dreams came in like needy children tugging at my sleeve
and i said i have no way of feeding you so leave

What I would really seriously love to do is to take about three days off. From everything. Spend the first day sleeping late and reading and napping and decompressing and generally Not Getting Anything Done. The second day would start out like this but I'd be restless by about two PM. At that point it's time to break into the writing. That can carry me through much of the day. Collapse in the evening, let the brain recharge. Get up on day three and dive more or less straight in. That's likely to be enough time to have something that's actually finished, something I've not done (for anything longer than a couple pages, anyway) in, oh, well over three years.

Eh. In the meantime, back on my head.