June 07, 2006

9:18 p.m.

Swish swish swish: Z

Rain, rain, rain! Sideways, whooshing, splashing, crying, "Stay indoors! Save yourself!" So I have; my back complains that I haven't been exercising, but hunkered either over my computer or the kitchen table, delving into unimaginable depths of dream research and little pieces of paper and glue and sparkles. What -- dream research, you say? Yes. I'm designing a dream journal and doing my homework.

Much of today was spent trying to track down the source of a tiny piece of clip art that, when enlarged to become the cover of my dream journal, looked horribly irresolute. I wonder if I look all pixilated when I'm irresolute. Anyway, after a great deal of Googling, ogling, and general boggling, I may have almost traced it. It's an illustration from A Midsummer Night's Dream that may be in the Globe Illustrated Shakespeare. Now I only have to find someone who has it, like a big library or a theatre student. It's beautiful, old, and perfect for my dream journal, which will be called, "Night Flights / A Dream Journal." That's because it's... a dream journal. Did I mention that?

Meanwhile I wanted to make some covers today, but the balcony was too wet to spray glue things outside. And I'm almost out of paper bags to use under the spray operation, which reminds me (again) that I have to get to West Hartford and visit Wild Oats for some overpriced, organic and wholistically derived groceries. So I can get more bags. For a year and a half I've had a surplus of bags that I just didn't know what to do with, as I repeatedly forget to bring them back to the store for reuse. Now, after a few book covers, I'm short on bags.

How interesting can this possibly be? Reading about every little detail of my bookmaking endeavor? What, am I writing this for you? Have I become your monkey? Shall I wear a red jacket? With epaulets? And dance, and smile with my lips turned inside out?

No. I shan't, because I am too busy laughing my ass off over sparky's entry from yesterday. Just when I think she's going to settle down and be serious for a minute... suddenly I have to go get a glass of wine and some ice cream because I feel like I'm at a party. Or maybe it's that I'm punchy from working on books all day. By the way, about my BOOKS...

We had three gigs this coming weekend; two have been cancelled for lack of reservations, and the other was a pair of church services on Sunday morning, which is now one service. So we're going to New Jersey to play one church service. It's lean and silly. But we're going to see Fairport Convention Saturday night instead, who are playing, serendipitously, very close to where the church is. They're on a U.S. tour and as we're trying to get booked to play at their festival next year, we wanted to try to catch them in person at a gig. Now we'll be able to. Meant to be.

Okay. As I haven't said enough on the subject yet, the link to the website-in-progress is: (ready?)

Talking River Books

You must SWEAR, on pain of having to hear me ramble on ad infinitum about every single little thing I do with scissors and glue all day long, to keep my mysterious identity a complete, top SECRET from the outside world. I have a reputation to uphold, that of a very famous, sought-after, well-reputed artist and musician, and millions of fans worldwide would be aghast to think that anyone would deign, upon discovering my true identity, to slight me. I lay my future at your feet. I am unmasked.