2003-06-20 6:50 p.m.
tra la la

Last days, home stretch, the words for what to call this space of time fail me...maybe I'm in the land of...hope?

The fact that the cover's printing ten kinds of light out of my work printer isn't bothering me (worst case: a little more digital fudging/trickery). D's vaulted out of his freelance woes and slapped the hell out of my book, lettering it faster than anybody should be. The deadline I set for him is this Monday. The latest I can get Styx to press is Thursday.

And I'm not worried.

I get harried, I get nervous, as any first-time publisher ought to. But once I'm calm, blood sugar level, mind quiet, I remember that I have a curious faith in this book, in my lover, my brother, this nifty Filipino punk who answered my ad on Craig's List for an artist, that our energy's come together in this slim little story, and that faith carries me through most of this.

D wants to launch what looked like a vanity press as a full-fledged publishing venture when his graphic novel's done later this year or early next...guess I'd better get another book in the pike, then.

Or a play. Maybe that's why I keep bumping into S on the subway, fate's little way of telling me to finish what I started. No worries, Sibyl, that's the next bear I'm off to wrestle.

But for now, I sit in the lunchroom of The Law Firm, gazing out at the towers of the Brooklyn Bridge, winking at Dom and Matty as they talk agelessly up there, wishing I could have lunch up there too.

Oh, but no tuna on white for me, thanks. The chocolate milk and sunshine will do fine.

This week, rushing from rewrites to work to Jeremy's back to rewrites, cramming in dinner before L and I collapse at the end of the day, it's amazing that I still feel energized at 7 on Friday. Maybe it's the burst of adrenaline you get when you see the finish line in the distance. Maybe it's because I can't get Liz Phair's cover of the Banana Splits song out of my head.

TRA LA LA
LA LA LA LA
TRA LA LA
LA LA LA LA

(you out there, quendra, shesajar? I'll be there soon, and there's a lotta partyin' in my bones rarin' to be let out.)

Hee.