My, my, what a lazy diarist I am becoming. One posting a week. This mirrors the speed of progress of all things Vicarious. A toxic enema, or a sharp pointed stick applied directly to the genitals, is needed.
It is not that nothing happens - Decisions on the KC DVD have been made and dispatched, contracts have been examined, letters and emails have been written and read. But the real stuff of life, the creative world, that sits unattended in the corner. And try as I may, it is a space I cannot enter. At every turn, BOP, some more "stuff" comes and fills the space. It takes so much energy to man the barricades, that, even on the few moments I can protect, I have no energy to be creative. Ground into the dust. I have almost forgotten how to dream. Whimper whimper.
However a decision has been taken. This is not acceptable. This is not even possible. This is death. So how might it be changed? A radical shift, a move of house? Things WILL improve.
"The mind leads the hands."
