This morning I awoke to a few inches of heavy wet snow.  I dug out, rode my stationary bike, yadda, and then spent a couple hours agonizing over whether to send out a book manuscript and a couple more hours getting it ready to send out.

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As I type I'm listening to Bo Diddley. In his autobiography Keith Richards has some interesting things to say about Diddley's guitar style, so I thought I should revisit the music.  Of course, any excuse to listen to this great musician is a good one.

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I'm at yet another sticking point in Appearances.

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Insomnia and weird serial dreams.  Lately I'm dreaming about moving through a post-flood landscape in which usually dead salmon fall from trees.  When he's unsure if they're dead or not Dream Tom examines them.

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Increasingly my eyes and I's (personae) are all tired.

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I'm 350 pages into Mark Young's magnificent poetry manuscript, the work of a master at the height of his power.

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I should be posting a new interview at Ask/Tell before too long.  This one is with a psychologist friend.

Have I ever mentioned here that my wife is a psychologist?  On one of our first dates (back in the seventies) she told me that I should see a psychologist.

And then she became one!  Badda bing!

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