A picnic at the cushy soft launch

The photo is of a painting by the Spanish artist Remedios Varo. She’s one of my favorites, definitely worth checking out. The title of the painting is Vampiros Vegetarianos.

Which leads me to a quartet of paragraphs about writing (Huh?):

Someone once described a writer’s grind as “the ability to be alone and failing for hours on end.” Someone else talked about “the emotional anguish and frustration writers go through when they try and try until there isn’t any other option but to keep trying until they succeed.”

A lot of literary publishers encourage “work that defies easy categorization.” And yet their own submission category labels are limited to prose, poetry, and, maybe, visual art. There should be a category unto itself for “work that defies easy categorization.”

I don’t often write about localized grimness because I prefer the wider brighter picture, and while not necessarily in body do I always reside in vibrancy, for there are some physical things I cannot do, but in soul and mind and spirit, I’m always at home in awe and happiness. Decentralized fulfillment is my credo, and that’s my subject matter, and that’s what I write most about. Plus even within the grimness are adumbrations of joy.

I am shocked at how crummy this new computer I’m using is, being as we’re in year 2020 and everything. When the machine is not choking, sputtering and wheezing like my asthmatic granny, it is seized up like addict who mainlined some bad shit, or else frozen like a cadaver at the morgue. Is there a lemon law for laptop computers?