Time on the Pole, a Roach, and Raid.
In the year, plus I've had this tiny basement studio I seem to have lost my mind in it more than once. Okay, well, probably more than once or twice but . . . the point du jour here: there are moments in life when you have to stand back and laugh, cry, or just throw in the towel. Lately, as it has been no secret, I've been doing a lot of contemplating of where I'm moving to next. Boston was long on the life list, as has been parts of Europe, a sojourn (or more like a prolonged stay) in India, and a writer's retreat to France (with a long stop in Paris, the city of my long-time fantasy lover's dream). Honestly, I can't stomach to think about it all right now . . . the spiral is not a pleasant one to view at the moment. The sending of articles, the waiting on review, the wonder if the you'll cobble together enough writing checks to pay the bar tab . . . The markers of life and stress should note: This is not a roach. Yea. Twice now I...