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Tonal total

Wednesday 2/19/20

I'm trying to hang on. I'll just keep this small and quiet. I feel like being small and quiet right now. If I could fit in a glove and just go into the top of a finger for a bit I would. I don't want to paste in here what I wrote on my FB author page. True though it is. I don't want to look at it. I just want things to be a little quiet right now. Be a little mouse. I'm not doing well. Even with how things normally stand, I'm doing less well than that. What that means represents a place I don't want to take either my imagination or my logic to right now. If they are different. I don't know that they are. I don't even want to think right now.


I had put up that link to my Instragram on here. That was probably a mistake. No one elected to follow me over there. I don't need more reminders along those lines. I walked three miles and climbed the Monument five times each the past three days. Control my heart health. Here is yesterday's segment on Downtown with Rich Kimball. Yesterday I was thinking I don't know how I don't drink.


I wrote a story today called "Bitonalities." The root of the story, in one way, is a Beethoven work that is in two keys at once. The story, the prose, then proceeds in two different keys simultaneously. Where something is one thing and not that thing--a different thing--at the same time. So the story is bitonal. I fixed the story I wrote on Sunday called "My Nub Skin" and the story I wrote yesterday. It's about a dam and there's a hole in the dam the size of a man. And the people in this town can only plug the dam for a limited time. The water comes through and carries away the people who have had love the longest. And the thing that best seals the hole in the dam is a person. A body. This woman leaves this man. Takes their kid. Because if the love isn't there, they'll be safe, no one will be carried away. But the man goes to the dam. Like his father once tried to. And he puts himself in the hole. He has to pull out this old body of Bert the barber that is sloughing away that was in there. He stops the water. And he hears his wife say she loves him. And his last thought is that he doesn't love her at all, and that seals the hole better. It's only 900 words. It's called "The Bone Hole."


I don't even know what I'm doing right now to be honest. I don't even know what anything is.