Another National Novel Writing Month has come and gone. I have written no novels. Maybe I'll write one on my week off. I won't be able to waste time with my favorite pastime, sleep, so why not write. I think I owe people a few short stories anyway. Genre stories. Maybe I'll dig up those requests.

My mother is not-so-secretly excited that she might get the chance to take care of me while I recover. Mothers must mother, after all. Perhaps I'll let her dote on me a bit. Maybe she'll get lucky and I'll be too weak to be an ass.

I'm halfway-excited to suffer. I blame my Catholic upbringing. No, not really. I'm intellectually curious about how much me I'll be able to be when I'm not in control. More me, or less me? Jorge Luis Borges wrote about his experience with a bout of what sounds like sepsis, after he was cut by the edge of an open window. He marveled how his friends and loved ones would come and talk to him so calmly, while he, he was in hell.

I should contact my surgeon's office. They'll probably want money and whatnot. I didn't write yesterday because I used my work break to contact another physician's office about a billing discrepancy. I'll be getting a refund.

Oh, I set up my 4K TV. (Samsung Electronics UN40MU6300 40-Inch 4K Ultra HD Smart LED TV (2017 Model)

It's pretty. The higher resolutions appears to mean higher sensitivity on the controls and I am currently terrible at Destiny 2 PVP. The input lag is pretty low for this TV, but it might be that. There may be lag from the PS4 Pro itself, since the game is not a 4K game, but has some up-scaling thing happening.

I'll suffer through, and learn. Well, suffer definitely, and learn hopefully.

Mundane tasks are of vital import. Showering while barely awake, standing outside in the cold while the dogs deliberate on the best spot to pee, idling in the car at a stop light, all of these things are half-open doors to inspiration.

Then work comes and drains that inspiration. Sucks the color out of rose-red dreams and leaves a dull-grey husk. Left with just enough energy to work on whatever it is that makes someone else money.

I dreamed pretty well last night. My friends Donovan, Lauren, Matt, and Alan were all playing a game with wide, flat stones that they held in their hands. The stones were no wider than of the palm of my hand, except for Lauren's. She had a stone the size of a baseball mitt. They weren't all the same stone, either. No precious stones. The stone size did not seem to be the deciding factor in the game they were playing.

Still feel like I'm waiting. Maybe because of the upcoming surgery. I speak, and I sneeze, and I cough, and I sing in the shower, and I wonder if I'll do all these things differently afterwards. Will I sound more serious? I hope not. It's become important to me that I not be taken too seriously.

And what. Energy siphons everywhere. Stick to established paths to avoid them. Still, what else would I do with all this energy?

Pain is minimal. That's good. Relative freedom. Also good. Walking every day. Growing stronger.

I'll be ready for any long walks that might come up.

Maybe even a challenge.

This enveloping feeling of tasks to be done. The edges of the soul where the mortar is flaking away and needs attention.

Eddie Vedder and Cat Power singing "Tonight You Belong". It's adorable.

Every morning I stare down at my handful of pills and try to wonder what I'm like without them. Then I remember: hurt, angry, and impulsive. Also my blood pressure would be a little high.

Thanksgiving was pleasant. My family lunch was good, and I also went to Kelly's family dinner. So many children running around at theirs. The Lopez family only had a couple. We're slacking.

The full weight of consumerism is upon me. I cracked and purchased a 4K Samsung tv. It's been difficult to find smaller 4Ks. Hopefully this will complete my TV collection. 

I've been walking a lot. I'm back to where I was last year, before the heel pain became too much. Now it's still there, but it's minor. I'll take a break when I have my surgery. I'm not supposed to move much while I recover anyway. 

We'll see. Everyone tells me that the pain is vast. From what I remember of pain, it changes the brain. I'll keep writing and try to anticipate myself. Should be interesting.