It’s dark and rainy today, and it’s dark and rainy in my soul.

I went to bed early last night, really tired, and then couldn’t get to sleep. I woke up early and couldn’t get back to sleep. These are things that haven’t happened much since I started the CPAP, and I don’t know what to think of it. Maybe my body’s still adjusting to the new sleep patterns. Maybe it’s an emotional reaction to having to pretend to be normal and talk with people at my lecture the other night. Maybe my suppressed psychosis is finally manifesting itself.

In any case, I’ve been low all day.

Found this site by way of Townhall.com. People list the odd things they believed when they were kids.

I’ve got some of those.

I believed a pack of nasty, winged dogs lived under my bed (but only at night). It was very important never to dangle my hand down over the edge where they could bite it. They couldn’t reach far out from their hiding place, though. Why a dog that lived under a bed would need wings, I never wondered.

I believed that there were other dangerous things after me in the night, beyond the winged dogs. But they couldn’t hurt me if I kept my sheets and blankets up right under my chin. If my neck got uncovered while I slept, though, I was in trouble.

I believed (or suspected) that all objects had personalities and feelings, like in the cartoons. To this day I feel guilty about throwing anything away. I know the objects are hurt by the rejection.

I used to wonder about that animal they always showed drawings of on weather reports. You know, that animal with the small head, thin front leg, and big hindquarters. My father eventually explained that it was a map of America.

When they did the Emergency Broadcast System tests on TV, I believed I was expected to hide under a table, like we did under our desks in school, during the bomb drills.

I believed that the Revolutionary War Battle of Concord had been fought in West Concord, Minnesota, a town near where we lived.

My mom told me that babies came from a seed that passed from a husband to a wife. So I figured the seed passed through their hands when they held hands during the wedding and the pastor pronounced them man and wife.

Brother Moloch and I had fun with our little brother Baal when he was scheduled for his first dentist visit. We told him they’d give him a shot with a big, square needle, and we made up a bunch of other harrowing stuff. This was standard family humor—we like ridiculous exaggeration. We thought he got the joke. He didn’t. They literally had to drag him into the office, screaming—and it was only a check-up.

It’s dark and rainy today, and it’s dark and rainy in my soul.

I went to bed early last night, really tired, and then couldn’t get to sleep. I woke up early and couldn’t get back to sleep. These are things that haven’t happened much since I started the CPAP, and I don’t know what to think of it. Maybe my body’s still adjusting to the new sleep patterns. Maybe it’s an emotional reaction to having to pretend to be normal and talk with people at my lecture the other night. Maybe my suppressed psychosis is finally manifesting itself.

In any case, I’ve been low all day.

Found this site by way of Townhall.com. People list the odd things they believed when they were kids.

I’ve got some of those.

I believed a pack of nasty, winged dogs lived under my bed (but only at night). It was very important never to dangle my hand down over the edge where they could bite it. They couldn’t reach far out from their hiding place, though. Why a dog that lived under a bed would need wings, I never wondered.

I believed that there were other dangerous things after me in the night, beyond the winged dogs. But they couldn’t hurt me if I kept my sheets and blankets up right under my chin. If my neck got uncovered while I slept, though, I was in trouble.

I believed (or suspected) that all objects had personalities and feelings, like in the cartoons. To this day I feel guilty about throwing anything away. I know the objects are hurt by the rejection.

I used to wonder about that animal they always showed drawings of on weather reports. You know, that animal with the small head, thin front leg, and big hindquarters. My father eventually explained that it was a map of America.

When they did the Emergency Broadcast System tests on TV, I believed I was expected to hide under a table, like we did under our desks in school, during the bomb drills.

I believed that the Revolutionary War Battle of Concord had been fought in West Concord, Minnesota, a town near where we lived.

My mom told me that babies came from a seed that passed from a husband to a wife. So I figured the seed passed through their hands when they held hands during the wedding and the pastor pronounced them man and wife.

Brother Moloch and I had fun with our little brother Baal when he was scheduled for his first dentist visit. We told him they’d give him a shot with a big, square needle, and we made up a bunch of other harrowing stuff. This was standard family humor—we like ridiculous exaggeration. We thought he got the joke. He didn’t. They literally had to drag him into the office, screaming—and it was only a check-up.

The issue of Relief Journal is in the wild, and from what I’ve read, it’s a strong issue. If you have not taken a chance on this journal or recommended it to your book club or writing group, I encourage you to do it. It will be far better than watching the news. I look forward to their Daily Sacrament contest winner, which will be featured in the next issue.

Also, Relief is trying to nurture new writers with a writing network.

The journal storySouth is calling for nominations for the best online fiction. Last year’s winner was a sci-fi short called “There’s a Hole in the City” by Richard Bowes.

David Lynn talks about refusing stories for The Kenyon Review which have also been submitted to other journals.

And there’s a new monthly literary review, Open Letters. They claim to be “dedicated to the proposition that no writing which reviews the arts should be boring, back-patting, soft-pedaling, or personally compromised.”

From blogging, not from work (more’s the pity). I’ll be doing a speaking engagement Monday evening, so there won’t be time to blog.

See you Tuesday evening.

What do you think about the term ‘tar baby’? In this AP story (link defunct), two presidential hopefuls have said of a difficult–dare we say ‘sticky’–situation that it is or would be a ‘tar baby’ for those involved. Both men apologized for using the term, but I don’t get it. Are the Uncle Remus stories anathema in our sensitive age? Or is this a return of the idiocy that cried out a few years ago when a politician who labeled someone as ‘niggardly’ was rebuked for his racist remark? That’s about as smart as trying to take the ‘hell’ out of ‘hello’ by saying ‘heaveno.’

I must pass on this brief article on magic tricks which appear to defy death. The William Tell trick is incredible!

Off the cuff, I can’t whole-heartedly recommend a new encyclopedia from an American conservative viewpoint even though they may be onto something. This is their aim:

Conservapedia is an online resource and meeting place where we give full credit to Christianity and America. Conservapedia is student-friendly. You will much prefer using Conservapedia compared to Wikipedia if you want concise, clean answers free of “political correctness”.

I guess the proof will be in the pudding no matter what the authors’ intent, but being styled a conservative encyclopedia gives the immediate impression of political slant, don’t you think?

I’m beat. I’m washed out. Judging by the energy I’ve lost, I have to assume somebody implemented the Kyoto Accords on my behalf.

Up to now, it’s been a good week. The CPAP machine seems to be doing its job. I’ve been waking up refreshed, sharper of mind and with a better attitude. The effect generally faded in the afternoons, but the time I hit the wall seemed to be later each day.

Yesterday I felt like I didn’t hit the wall at all.

Alas, the wall was just changing tactics. I woke up early this morning, and was unable to get back to sleep, for the first time since I started using the breathing prosthetic.

And all day I’ve been Grandpa Sloth, the sloth all the other sloths have to wait for. I’m weak. I’m tired. I’d close my mouth when I chew, but that takes so much effort.

And the Black Dog of Depression has his big Labrador paws on my shoulders and is drooling down my neck.

It wasn’t even a bad day. I got started on a project I’ve been dreading and putting off, so my guilt should be lower. My new library assistant seems to be catching on to the basics of the cataloging system. And I got a line on a new agent, thanks to the good offices of Ed Veith (I’ll let you know if any contracts get signed).

Fortunately the day will end, and tomorrow will likely be better. I’ll be sorry I even wrote this post.

So forget all about it, please.

I can sympathize with these men. If I knew a whale was stranded in the harbor nearby, I would want to urge him out to the ocean too. But this is a sperm whale, and I’ve read Moby Dick. In this case, I’m not sure I would actually try to do anything at all, at least not anything in a boat.

Today the temperature topped 60. We’re not fooled, mind you. We’re Minnesotans. We’ve been deceived too many times by Madame March to put any trust in her fickle promises. Tomorrow will be cooler (though not bad) and there’s a chance of some snow over the next few days.
But today it was possible to pretend the whole thing was over.
As I took my constitutional, I saw two people I also saw last night. Last night I took them for a mother and her little boy.
Today I got closer and realized the mother was a young guy. And the little boy was his girlfriend.
That’s pretty much all the proof I need, isn’t it? I’m officially a codger.
Movie advice (from a guy who almost never goes to them anymore): If you enjoyed 300 and want to find more of the same, and if you check out movies starring Gerard Butler on Netflix, and you see that he did one called Beowulf, and you think, “Hey, another great action movie with swords, starring the same guy!”—take it from me. Don’t waste your money.
My review of Beowulf is here.
I’m considering devoting the rest of my life to destroying the market for that particular irritating piece of political correctness.
Being a codger now, I have to take my pleasures where I can.