It’s a beautiful day here in Tucson. The weather is hot again (with a forecast for 102 and a bit of rain) but it’s almost the last of the bold summer heat. This is what it looked like just after sunrise.
The pool isn’t really green. It’s just the blue morning light, you know.
The side garden looks crazy busy in this light, as if there is all manner of Thing going on.
Of course, there is.
It’s exciting to know that Alexander is just on the other side of the wall. I admit I was worried that he didn’t make it through his rejection by Orangelina. He looks so yellowy golden gorgeous. I’m sure I’ll get a picture of him soon. He’s gone a bit back to wild… a little unsure of me, I think, after I refused him entry to my bedchamber, a second stinging rejection for him in one day.
I hope to win him over again soon, after everything finally calms down here.
I’m admittedly feeling a little confused by how difficult it is to get caught up right now. I have so much work that work is all that I do- I just get up and make coffee and start doing it, and when I get tired I turn off the light, and then I wake up and it’s morning and I start again. My covers are never even mussed up after I sleep; I just lie there like a deeply dreaming log for six or seven hours.
In a way that’s fine, because it’s how I like to live my life, being very productive. But the hard part is that the general stackup is not getting visibly smaller, even though intellectually I know I’ve done huge mountains of work, every day, giant wads of work, more than most people could. I have the same number of boxes of beadwork from the same number of people as I did last week, for example.
This is a happy (if exhausting) circumstance, because it speaks to just how much awesome is coming in. I’m so grateful for everyone making, sending, loving the book. It’s kind of overwhelming; CGB has generated more original work than any of us can even comprehend. If there were four of me, they could all be productively employed full time just on that project. As it is, what I don’t have time for is communication, and that is the gossamer that links us all, all over the world.
I just wish I could move faster, but I can’t quite imagine how without working with other people, which is something that I generally fail at. I’m continually re-evaluating my strategies, trying to stay nimble, and that’s not a winning recipe for collaboration. I think with my hands, with my entire body. My mouth can’t tell you what will happen before my hands begin doing. How could it? I’ve never worked from patterns, outlines or blueprints and I have no interest in becoming a person who does. So it’s hard to explain to others what I’m doing. Who knows what I am doing? I’m just doing it.
Ah well. I suspect that if I just keep working, and never stop, eventually I will die and then someone else will have to do things. And they will likely do them with the edges sticking out, and they will photograph jewelry on hairy arms, and they will probably leave the lights on all night, and store cardboard boxes on basement floors, but (hopefully) I won’t know or care.
I say that laughing, but also with a sense of complete hopelessness. I am sometimes (always?) the prisoner of my own expectations.