I have a head cold. I find it difficult to write well when I have a head cold. I'm allergic to cold medicines, so I can't blame the writing difficulty on drugs... It's just a loopy feeling that translates through the keyboard. Haven't written much in the last few days.
Then it occurred to me...or Ralph the Muse...that this head cold on this day could serve me well. In Sexton Sand, the three Americans are carting Rajhad'een down the street. Good old Raj is possessed, knocked silly, and out of it...which is exactly how I feel now.
I think I will write this next chapter from Raj's point of view. It will be a mish-mashed hodge podge of emotion, swirling vision, pain, and humor. Perfect for my present state of brain activity.
I'll get started. Right after. Shower. Nap. Yeah....those things.