Lawyers, Guns, And Money

“Dad, get me out of here!”

Love Warren Zevon.

Dealing with the Big D, trying to act like everything’s OK, when all I really want to do is go back to bed and sleep forever. Going on since early May. Being up and about is like slogging through mud.

Of course, one reason for going to bed is it’s about 80-85 degrees in here and the air conditioner, which is in perfectly good working order, is sitting on the floor. In my room, the air is going full blast. Long story about someone trying to do me a favor last January or so, which is much appreciated, but it’s summer, now.

Writing is like pulling teeth. A few sentences here, a few there. But a few is better than none, right?

One piece of encouraging news. At Balticon, over the Memorial Day weekend, a local bookstore contacted me and is interested in stocking my books. Waiting now with bated breath.

Too tired to write any more. Going to bed. It’s cooler, anyway.

Ciao.

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