Like the hydra’s head, the morning’s one rejection spawned multiple new submissions. Not content with one for two I’ve made a return of five. Five good submissions as Herecles seeks a club and some fire.
That was friday.
Through the weekend, what parts I remember, I got another two rejections and sent out another half dozen submissions. My most recent publication, “Panvermiphobia” is doing well on it’s on, I think, but Kaaterskill Basin didn’t include a link to this page in my bio on theirs, so I have no metric to judge readership. That’s ok, we’re still friends. Go give them a read.
Sunday I strung up a double layer privacy screen around two thirds of my exposed yard. I much prefer the garden this way, though I’ve a section left to do. Ran out of both layers of screen, then I ran out of shade, then out of sun. Too late of a start and I’m still moving slowly when self-directed. I’d call the sloth a cousin if I couldn’t still snatch falling objects from the air.
It’s very strange to feel so sluggish and slow when left alone and then to absentmindedly catch flies barehanded. There seems some disconnect between my sense of self and the self as a machine.
I think my interlink could use a tune up. Another oddity to throw on the whiner’s list of maladies.
The newest on that list of ridiculous ailments is an apparent reaction to a tetanus shot. While not quite winning the one in ten million lottery of seizure or stroke, I did make it into the div. II pool with my 1/100 reaction of joint pain, headache, and fatigue. No word from the internet on how to treat those things, but both the CDC’s and NIH’s websites assure me that such results can occur. Glad to know I’m not hallucinating.
Really, it’s not so bad, as it only hurts when I move, breath, or think. Hence my doing little of any over the last week.
I really do like my new doctor. I gave him a complaint and he addressed it. No arguments or thinly-veiled shots at my honesty. No “maybe you just”s or “have you tried”s. It’s nice to be able to relax in at least one aspect of my speech, not having to guard or specifically phrase what I say, conversation as an obstacle course with understanding the cheese, that cheddar set on a rattrap.
Speaking of cheddar, I’m about done in for cash. I’m most entrepreneurial when broke, so, not surprisingly, I’ve been thinking a lot about my abilities, capital, and their marketability.
I made an appointment to (finally) drop off my jewelry at the Susquehanna Art Museum. SAM’s store is consignment based, so there’s no guarantee of sales, but given my relative skill to what else is available, I have some hope of doing a bit of trade. I apologize in advance for my upcoming and regular advertisement of those items I’ve up for sale at SAM.
With my studio in place and operating at about 60% (it’s hard to define percentages in such cases, but I’d guess sixty percent based on how much time I spend working versus how much time I spend looking for things, that is, how much time spent in the studio is time I’ve spent actually working) I have the ability to make more things, pots, sculpture, even jewelry, so it isn’t the crafting side of the equation I fall down on, but the marketing.
Agricultural Alchemy’s sales page still lacks a great many pictures. I’m still shit at self-promotion. I’ve yet to remember to even bring signs to the markets I’ve attended.
Rather than being distraught over this, though, I feel relieved. There’s a great deal of obvious room for growth. I’ll save my maudlin despair for when I’ve actually done all the clever things I can think of to make A.A. marketable and have no idea how to improve.