Low Red Moon journal

        Tuesday, April 23, 2002

        Today I wrote 28 wds. on Chapter Five (no, I didn't leave out a zero or two - 28 words). Exactly one sentence. Well, also the title of the chapter, which pushes it up to 35. No wonder I'm exhausted. Actually, after staring at that one sentence for an hour an a half, I realized I had to walk over some of the ground where the opening is set, a viaduct adjacent to (and partly over) the old Sloss Furnaces. So, I spent about an hour walking back and forth, jotting down notes and snapping three diskettes' worth of reference photos. I used the same locale in Part 2 of "Souvenirs" (The Dreaming #18). I have to concoct an appropriately dire punishment to visit upon myself on these days when I don't write my requisite 1,000 words, or at least something close to it. Suggestions welcome.

        Here's a photo of three baby robins in their nest beneath the viaduct, which I got while being yelled at by both their parents, who were swooping about nearby:

        Birdies

        Of course, the day didn't start well at all. I had a dentist appointment. I hate going to the dentist. It's one of my few genuine phobias. But go I did, as, during WHC, I'd noticed a very small brown spot on my right lower wisdom tooth which I thought might be the start of a cavity. I was right. So, it had to be filled. As I'd done once before, I requested we forego the Novacaine. She said it was a shallow little thing and I detest my mouth being numb for hours, so I figured I'd be fine, despite her misgivings. However, the tooth already has a filling (which she put in just last year), and, as she drilled, she began to fear the filling had cracked and more decay might be lurking underneath the amalgam. So she decided to take it out, check, and refill the tooth. And still I declined Novacaine. There was no additional decay, and the filling wasn't cracked, but I think she's decided I'm some sort of demented masochist.


        1:23 AM


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        Low Red Moon journal
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