Sorry for our poor attendance record around here lately. As usual, s.z. has a good excuse for her absence, while I have a crappy, selfish one, delivered via a badly forged note.
As s.z. has mentioned in the past, she has a chronic medical condition that, when active, leaves her exhausted and in a good deal of pain. And unfortunately, the Condition has been in full swing for the last couple of weeks, which means she’s been getting only a couple hours of sleep a night (and none at all the other night, when Zigra was rocketing from one end of the house to the other, propelled by a recordbreaking bout of explosive diarrehea). Despite being literally sick and tired, when her church asked that she assume the burden of visiting and taking meals to a local woman suffering from breast cancer, she unhesitatingly agreed.
And as the delightful cherry on top of that cake, her computer also seems to have developed a chronic medical condition, and invariably flatlines the instant it’s hooked up to the Internet. So s.z. hasn’t been able to log on long enough to read the blog, let alone post, but she was deeply touched when I told her about all of the birthday greetings and offers of penis enlargement that were left in the comments, and wanted me to convey her thanks to everyone.
I, on the other hand, have not been busy comforting the sick, nor have I been cleaning up after a cat that treats the living room walls the way Jackson Pollock would treat a canvas if he were a German scat fetishist who’d just eaten a bad plate of Schneckensuepple. I’m just buried with work at the moment — pages due (actually, overdue) Thursday on a commissioned script, and on Friday I’ve got a pitch meeting at Spike TV. (I’ve retooled my Regency-era drama, Of Pantaloons and Popinjays to better appeal to Spike’s demographic by adding more action — in the pilot, the third act climaxes with a scuffle outside Westminster Abbey over the issue of trousers versus knee-britches. At the moment, it’s mostly gout-ridden, middle-aged men knocking each other’s wigs askew with walking sticks, but I’m hoping to work in a sword cane; I figure that would make the series the perfect lead-in to UFC Ultimate Fight Night.)
Anyway, sorry for the echoey, sepulchral-like quality of the place. We’re hoping things will start getting back to normal next week. And in the meantime, thanks for your patience.