Rainy funky rain

It's the rainiest of rainy days. I'm going to see if I have some yoga in me, because otherwise I don't know how I'll manage anything more than sleep for the rest of the day. Got some writing in this morning, and I'd like to do more.

I'm at a stage in my rewrite where the whole thing feels very daunting. I've turned a corner into the middle of the story, and I need to make some big decisions about how things are going to unfold. I know I'll do it, but I'd love to be able to think about it over a long walk, and the weather's not cooperating.

Yick.

I often think I should get out and see music more often, and last night I did twice. The first charged a cover and turned out to be an all-ages show attended mostly by what seemed to be a teenage boy's birthday party and a lot of older chaperones. Everyone my age knew better than to be there I guess -- the bassist and drums weren't together, the sidekick singer was flat, and they had things cranked way too loud for the space. Then later, I saw live blues -- no cover -- that made people dance and scream. Beautiful. Live music redeemed.

Just finished reading The Dead and the Gone by Susan Beth Pfeffer, one of those apocalyptic books I love so well.