|
After 117 pages and over 21,000 words, "la merda colpisce il ventilatore" in Chapter 9. The protagonist is reunited with someone he'd thought he'd never see again, which may lead to murder as the two subplots merge into one. Finally, I can glimpse the conclusion of the Painted People Story, with my own past reimagined as fiction. Today's writing session left me festive, ready for Thanksgiving. However, I anticipate a modest celebration at my place this year—nothing like Abel's grand Thanksgiving in San Francisco with Zeno and friends. Nothing at all like past Thanksgivings at the Lockharts in Alameda, the Woos in Oakland Hills or the times spent with Lynda Dann in Berkeley with friends. The post-election atmosphere has left me feeling subdued, weary. Writing keeps me from trouble, poor relationships and partying, so I suppose quitting isn't an option... not that I'm eager to reach 101 years old. Yet, the thought is intimidating; 101 isn't so distant, even if I don't look the part.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorCHARLES PEARSON Archives
December 2025
Categories |
RSS Feed