Really, it is simply unbelievable.
Does it seem I must be making all this death up? I keep thinking I'll awaken from a nightmare.
+ + + + + + +
I've continued to keep riding the wave of an artistic high. I'm back to drawing, after taking a couple of nights off around last week's performance. Now I'm back to it. I think there are three or four more drawings left, and then this series is finished.
And I've archived about thirty pieces on Somnambulit, my new writing archive, some dating back to 1972. I need to prowl through my archives again, but I think nearly everything I wanted to share is now posted.
I haven't been sleeping much. It must be the above hundred degree temperatures. But I have been in a kind of artistic tizzy since Bob's death. And my own health issues have definitely added a sense of urgency to the mix. Pina Bausch's death can't help but have the same effect on me. I probably won't sleep much for the next couple of months. If the work is going well, of course I want to keep working. The artistic blocks, the silences, always arrive on their own, and with them, a period of sleep and restfulness.