Famine or feast...

...which, if you want to be correct in your quotes, goes the reverse direction. It's just not doing that for me.

Recent days have been sheer, unadulterated hell. No, worse than that. No ambition, no energy, no nothin' except fear that catastrophe was now unavoidable.

Thanks to those who helped, and a client who finally laid some loot on me (not to mention my hunch that my greedhead landlord would take a check of some size from me and cash it instead of throwing it back in my face and yelling -- in his best Bela Lugosi voice -- "get out!"), kept the worst from happening.

It did leave me with a Ford F250 diesel pickup (12.9 miles per gallon...sheesh!) I planned to use to haul all my crap to storage.

Worse, it left me an emotional wreck, almost motionless, and unable to deal with even the smallest things.

Most of the people I encountered during the worst of the meltdown didn't know. They got my usual positive, energetic self. And that, too, was incredibly wearing on me.

I ain't out of the woods. But I think I might see some evidence of a clearing ahead.

And now, the pendulum swings the other way.

As of yesterday, I had three articles to write within the next week or so. Not bad, as one had basic research done and the other two could be padded with, well, bull excreta.

Now I have six, and should have them all done within seven days if I am to maintain peace among the clientele. Three of them will not be easy.

But I'm not complaining.

Wait a minute, I am complaining. My photographer friend, D., can drive me into a vein-bursting rage with the easy way he promises delivery dates. That's fine for the photography -- he does that in a couple of hours -- but he either tells the editors the story is already written or won't take me any time.

Okay. I need the money. Otherwise, I'd simply ignore him.

Tonight, however, I have a relaxing and fun evening ahead (though it involves driving that supertanker through evening traffic to get where I need to be).

That will bring a smile to my face, and may even be the subject of a posting later tonight.

Today, I received copies of a magazine carrying a story that is my favorite piece of work in a long, long time. The editor remains delighted by it (as do I) though both of us first saw my finished copy four months or so ago. I seldom can read myself with fresh eyes, but this time I could. And it made me think, "damn, that boy is a helluva writer!"

None of the stories I have ahead this week will evoke that reaction barring some kind of miracle.

Enough of that, though. I'll be back later.