I woke up unsure if I was 12 and still living with my grandmother or if I was 40 and my grandmother long since gone. In the dark, in the mental twilight between states of consciousness, for a moment or two, I am like Billy Pilgrim, unstuck in time. This notion is embedded in #Eudaimonia, a series comprised of 3 novels
, 3 sets of short stories, a tarot deck, a book about the tarot deck, 1 art book, and 1 super secret TBD.
So much to not say about myself and my doings and yet, a newsletter? How? I don’t have the words to fill a blog
. I don’t have the words to fill a youtube, such as #EpisodeZero
. I see myself chattering away at myself and sense voyeurs like you out there beyond layers of glass and smoke.
I’m writing. I’m painting in oil on canvas. I’m sculpting with wire and plaster. I’m nurturing myself and my aching hands. I’m respecting my boundaries. I’m burying my dead.