Dru, Steinbeck and the Book of Deer

Dear Juliet I hope you liked reading all those blogs last night, but I guess a situation may be on your mind. Okay, I'm listening; and I remember the time I gave you advice about Scott Allie. I can help you again if you'd like, but I can't proffer it against your will. Over here, the sciatica's still painful but I had a good afternoon out with friends at the Bell and Tong and also got an invite out for tonight. I'll try bravely to hobble over. But where does that leave me and thee? Sitting in the catbird seat , perhaps? I'm not sure. I get the feeling - and it's only a feeling - that you're near a turning point, a breakthrough, maybe a moment of clarity? Well, if you are, I'm watching out for you. Mind you, though, the darn ringer on my smartphone never seems to work too well... But I'll keep an eye and ear out for you, come what may. I suppose, separately or together, we're sitting in the catbird seat. But if that's the case please alway...

Dear Juliet Some of the titles that occur to me... Anyway, don't worry, I'm only going to mention the middle one. Every now and then, a muscle in my lower back clenches up over the sciatic nerve. The result is painful and I'm seeing the osteopath on Friday. So it goes, as Vonnegut says. I know things are maybe a bit heavy for you at the moment, and it probably feels quite a lot worse than a trapped nerve. But I'm listening as you read this in the deeps of the night, if my guess is right. I hope you're okay. Perhaps this is the thing to say:  The longer you leave a trapped nerve, the less chance things will indeed be okay. Time after time over the past seven years, I found that tomorrow might well be another day, but it's best not to postpone any reckoning 'til a time far away. It's rarely as bad as you think if you face up to it at dawn rather than dusk. Leave it too long and it gets locked in place like a husk, harder to wrench free and loosen up. Like...

Dear Juliet I think the best thing today is just to say in a low-key way that (apart from London 18th-20th August) I'll be around. Doing this blog is the highlight of my day. I've done some of my best writing for years and if I can find an old poem deeply buried within the original emails I'll show it to you, if I may. I just finished that year long course of pills. Took a good look at the last one before it went down. They should leach out of my system shortly, I'm clear of cancer and hope to do a few calls later this week. In the meantime, I'll take a walk round Shifnal shortly and see what's working. I'm running a bit low on pictures of Point Lobos, but I can use stock images and there's no hurry anyway. Tomorrow is another day. I always liked writing to you. I hope I can do it, day by day. I think that's what I wanted to say. Anyway, I'll keep an eye out for the Tartt at Pordes, look for a way to destabilise the UK government again (favour fo...

Dear Juliet Three themes for today: regeneration, the TARDIS and Point Lobos. So: Okay, that was odd. Apparently, the pills were a marathon which I miraculously cruised through apart from this momentary snap at the end. Two pills to go and then I am done. And it actually feels like I just regenerated ... It was subtle, but a bit like everything just sharpened up a bit and my perceptions cleared... I guess that thirty-five year-old blood of mine did the trick, brought me back. And you're still reading about Point Lobos? Well, I once did the first five chapters of an unpublished novel called "I'm In Marsport Without..." , included time travel and set it at the Point. Nobody bit, but here's an extract: "The sky was stone cold blue, and it didn’t look friendly because it wasn’t. California Highway 1 looked like the usual flat black ribbon of tarmac, which it was; and there was I, stoned out of my mind, sitting on a petrified tree log just south of Point Lobos, wo...

Dear Juliet I borrowed the title from an old British film , but I don't think the convention was invaded by German troops ( Gorns , maybe) and that you'll live to fight another day. I'm hoping this fatigue of mine won't last too long, and a trip to the physiotherapist and osteopath should ease off that twinge in my back. Then it looks like there will be one last walk to New Cross after all. My doctor had suggested either one final telephone call or an actual appointment so I decided to be sociable. So, as I can't think too creatively at the moment, that's my news. But I'm going to London again 18th-20th August, I'll get you a few more photographs and see if I bump into the King. Since there isn't much to say today (I don't think you'd be interested in a picture of my filing cabinet), I'll just dip into my archives and tell you an old story about you, me and Jim from the NAS. Some time around 2012 or so, Jim asked me if the email correspon...

Dear Juliet I'd better just mention that, after eleven-and-a-half months with virtually no side-effects from the Trametinib and Dabrafenib pills I'm on, they're knocking me for six at the last. They're finishing up on Sunday but it looks like I'll be horizontal until then, which is a depressing subject for a blog. However, they'll be finished and I'm clear of cancer, which is better news. So I suppose the way I'd work today's words is this: You were still worth me dragging myself to my desk to punch out these few short words; and I felt an odd twinge of worry the other day, wondering whether you'd be okay at the convention. I'm worrying about nothing, I suppose. Have a good con! Sorry, I gotta go collapse! Love, James