Day Thirty and The End

(from my morning journal)

“[08:39] It’s the last day.

I cobbled together pictures to include in this last November blog post, before December comes, and my life changes back again. Before my life changes forward.

I’m tired. We’re all tired. More than just body tired, although that’s a lot of it. The brain affects the body, and the body affects the brain. This world affects the brain AND the body. I’d like to think we all see that now. Remember that. Scrapbook that. And keep that scrapbook on the coffee table of our lives. Always handy. Always at hand [08:45].

[08:46] I don’t want to write any more than that on this subject. Not here, in this journal. Not now, before I get other things off my mind and out of my system. I have a lot to do. Not today, but very soon. Maybe even tomorrow, when there isn’t THIS to do. No, really, move off now. Move onto something, anything, else [08:50].”

That was the first page of the day, handwritten, before following my own orders for the day. Now, I’m making this up as I go. Gathering the images that meant the most to me over the last 30 days of NanoPoblano. Playing connect the dots with content, hoping that things end up where I want them on the page, and NOT like David Hedison’s head on the body of a fly, crying “Helllllp meeeee” before Vincent Price ended what would become Jeff Goldblum’s least appreciated SciFi reboot.

Oh yeah, help me. There’s a takeaway that I’ve tucked in my pocket on the way out the door of this November blog month, that reads loud and clear in the image above. That “sadness isn’t the only muse”. I vaguely wrote something in the neighborhood of that, in passing, somewhere inside the post with the Motorola Razr in the picture, about how, if I had released my next book back when all my motivation for writing was dark, sad, angry, drunken pain, it would’ve been utter and total shit. In the half-dozen years from the release of my last book until now, I’ve LIVED all the shit that needs to be lived, and lived through, before you can listen to another, better, muse.

Now, all there is to do is look forward. Thanks to all who read, wrote, or participated in any form they chose. These last 30 days have been my love poem to all of you. As someone who once wrote a poem about never again writing love poems, I hope you can appreciate the irony.

For now, I’m going to leave you with that thing I write at the end of most of my November posts. It might not be literal this time, but the wish is always on my heart.

Talk to you tomorrow.