I have discovered a most marvelous way to waste time—shopping for Kindle books. So many are free, or a couple bucks. I have so many now–stacks. I have also added and added and added books and things to my wish list. It’s ridiculous. Of course, you may be asking why I am doing this, why I haven’t learned the absolute importance of getting up and moving around. Well, once again, something has come up. My back has come up, or rather my lower back has come up. All the inactivity and sitting in this marvelous bed in the exact wrong position to aggravate this awful sacrum shit has caught up with me. Thursday I was in enough pain, too much pain, and I went to a chiropractor and she thinks that falling off and banging my ass in the Munich airport (I always include the Munich part) caused trauma and it has just gotten worse and worse. And now it is really worse. I’ll be getting treatment three times a week. Don’t know for how long, but these people are so nice and everything smells nice and I love it—they even have snacks. And they are not expensive. At all. They haven’t adjusted my back yet because the doctor didn’t think I was ready, which makes me nervous as adjustments usually feel good to me, but it has to be done.
I have been doing submissions and I’ve already gotten a couple acceptances. Atticus Review is taking the awful, terrible, lovely gang bang story, which will be the first piece of fiction that I’ve published since 2008. I hadn’t realized how long it had been. And then there’s this magazine for mothers that I discovered through the P&W website tools for writers—Brain Child. They are taking an essay about James as a web exclusive, which I think means it won’t appear in print, but I’ve decided that online printing is even better than print if I want to get exposure. And I am getting fifty dollars for it. So it’s good.
I haven’t been writing, but I figure that’s okay. I know that I will write again. And I’ve not been reading much either, but that’s okay too. I know that I will. I did go to this Jungian counselor last week, but my insurance doesn’t cover it and it was weird, especially because I was feeling well at the time. So, tomorrow I’m calling the reasonable, perfectly capable counselor and setting up an appointment. And that will be that.
So other than this back, I feel good.
I got a copy of Anne Sexton’s The Awful Rowing Toward God because of something I read in Lauren Winner’s Still and it turns out that Sexton did the exact thing that I’m doing with all this God stuff. I am creating my own theology/mythology. I had no idea that she had done this, but naturally editors will think that I copied her. There is nothing new under the sun, which surely means something. Or is it the son?
Tomorrow—chiropractor, shrink, massage. I am not looking forward to the shrink, but there it is.