Tickle Me

Hello Monday.

And here I am, fighting off a cold or something (my throat has surrendered and my nose is fighting valiantly but looks to be losing), trying to write a grant application I have to finish today, and doing a not-very-good job of it. And the apartment is drafty and though it seems bright outside I'm just getting dim gray light. And the bits of me that I've been seeing doctors about recently are not exactly hurting, but ARE causing an annoying, constant discomfort (nothing hideous or terminal, I assure you, just chronic, unending discomfort-occasionally-jumping-into-pain -- it appears I almost certainly have tarsal tunnel syndrome in my right foot, and there's other things I won't go into).

So I'm cold and achy and cranky and looking for laughs and some kind of relaxing comfort.

This makes me laugh. More so if I just play it over and over and over and over . . .

And this foreign ad for Swedish Fish - part of their "a friend you can eat" (?) campaign - charms because it has a kitten mewing in it, and I'm a sucker for that . . .

And to relax and go all Zen, I can stare into the endlessly deep expression on the face of The King as he seems to make a request of his 50,000,000 fans (who can't be wrong) on this 45rpm single sleeve:

When I first looked at the above, I thought he looked forlorn, like he could use a good tickle (and how about a "Tickle Me Elvis" doll anyway? I'm sure it could produce some damned fine sounds). But the more I look in that kisser, the more I see a sly confidence. Even arrogance. "Go on, just TRY and tickle The King! See if you can!"

On the better side of the day, while the grant application has become impossible (time to throw it in and be better organized for this grant next year), bits of Spacemen from Space, which has been slow in coming to the Writer part of my brain, suddenly appeared today and I was able to jot some productive bits of that down. They weren't massive CONTENT parts, but they were major STRUCTURAL/TONAL elements which are exactly what I need right now -- once I lick the structure and tone, it's almost by-the-numbers.

The structure is a glass form that I need to know the shape of, and then I can blow it into that form. The tone is the kind of liquid I'm going to pour into that glass form once it's blown. I'm pretty clear now on the form, and I know the kind of liquid. Now I just need to brew those liquid contents.

The best cure I ever had for a cold like this involved incredibly hot and spicy Indian food and a gigantic glass of Jameson's whisky, neat. I don't have either of those handy, but I may attempt an alternate to that Indian/Irish cure today by going with a Chinese/Czech one and eating a large bowl of leftover spicy beef and onions (adding additional hot sauce and mustard) and drinking as much Becharovka as I can stomach (I have a full, unopened bottle in the freezer). If it doesn't cure this cold, it may make me stronger, or at least keep me in the state-of-mind to keep writing the fever-dream-like Spacemen from Space . . .