I had such great ideas for the story that I didn’t write anything for a week, but that’s okay because it gets deeper either way. The magic is all around me now, and I’m sorting through impressions, looking for boundaries. I have a thought process in which I think I should write something but when I do that my mind jumps a rail and I start seeing things. There’s a part of my mind that feels dead, I feel like I’m looking into a void, and the level of reality of that is moving, the horrors and betrayals of my past seem more real and yet more harmless at the same time. They really happened, people really are this dark and ugly, but what was the magic that turned this wheel to begin with? I’m happy now, feeling the curtains of velvety light all around my mind. What is the center point of all this dreaming?

Genvieve and I are watching Twin Peaks this year, and also continuing with Black Clover.

I stopped and wrote the next section of the Jazz Odyssey.