This week was both exultant and heart-breaking, at turns exhilarating and tiresome. The exhilarating and exultant moments, I will leave concealed and private for now. The heart-breaking piece, I drown in red wine.

But the tiresome bits, I don't mind typing here, even as they may not interest any reader. Still waiting for that bank statement I ordered three times for my student visa (which expired a month ago). Still dealing with the bureaucrats who won't respond to my emails for weeks, despite the fact that they fucked up. Still working on The Neverending Chapter, with a cracked laptop screen and a pesky roommate who interrupts you mid-work by moaning about how bored she is and how she wished she had microwave popcorn. Today I found out that my health insurance rate goes up in the new year, something I didn't account for in my tiny budget. Ugh.

I like the neatness of that "Ugh". It sums up, with its terse and ugly form, the dismay I should feel: guttural but brief. As I give the tiresome bits their true shape, they diminish, along with the strength of my feelings for such things, which come from deeper, ancient wounds, a hundred demons that come and go with the waning and waxing of my powers. Already the old Phil is dead, with her rage and sorrows. Sweep her out, mop the floor, wash the dishes. Make phone calls and write your emails with detachment. Re-organize your notes and keep on writing and editing.

Most importantly, remember your bliss.

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