The Memory Project
Off the top of my head, natural (Johnny Ketchum)

TMP: Pity Party
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I did say that I thought I could be here as often as once or twice a month, right? Anyway, a progress report. The enforced hours away from the computer help a lot. Also, I park the wireless mouse on the left side of the computer. Arm's improving.

I had meant to include the following in the original post. It's a passage from Stephen King's ON WRITING that reminds me that I don't know what pain is.

"That first writing session lasted an hour and forty minutes, by far the longest period I'd spent sitting upright since being struck by Smith's van. When it was over, I was dripping with sweat and almost too exhausted to sit up straight in my wheelchair. The pain in my hip was just short of apocalyptic . . . There was no miraculous breakthrough that afternoon, unless it was the ordinary miracle that comes with any attemp to create something . . . My hip still hurt, my back still hurt, my leg, too, but those hurts began to seem a little farther away."
(c) Stephen King

I don't know about you, but when a writer such as King uses the word "apocalyptic" to describe pain, I'm inclined to take him seriously.

I wrote 2,700 words yesterday on a flight to Florida with nary a pain. I can write all I want. I just can't click all I want. And given that we're still trying to resolve some pesky Internet issues around the house because of this $#(*^@!!! phone that was given to us, it turns out that I have only 30 minutes of connectivity before I lose my server. (I then have to walk down two flights and do a quick on-off on the router.) What's the old saying? Man plans, God laughs.

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