I was going to write something here about the rush of feelings I had yesterday, driving to work in a haze of jet lag and listening to Toto’s “Africa”, feeling caught somewhere between the green muck of England and white-light bone-dry California, my own past a forgotten country; something about home and how that word has never quite settled for me, never quite become defined, how I always feel as if things might still change again, how I can easily see myself going through the labor of packing and moving and waking up in yet another city, alone/not alone, and starting it all over again.
How many times, in a life, can we start over again?
All of this because of that damn Toto song, because music is one of the few things that strings it all together for me, the me I was and the me I am and the me I have yet to become. I sang along without thinking; I knew every word, without knowing that I knew. How many times in a life can we become.
While I was gone, I won a contest! Which is always exciting. Results should be out and about in a week or two.
My interview with Rhonda Parrish about my B is for Broken story went up and you can read it here.
I did little writing but a fair bit of thinking and I have hit the ground running, pushing out yet another of my half-done shorts into the submission fray. Hoping for at least one more bit of news to round out this year. More soon.