a little rainfall after a glorious week, i wake up with a migraine, am i tired, need to close my eyes like a vampire reacts to light an intense boring in my skull. there's already enough sun within my system, i need to absorb that and the surf, it swirls around my body like a wild energy that requires harnessing, sleep will align my body bringing equilibrium. later in the evening i am eaten by mosquitoes, they are everywhere feeding upon my blood, i can't swat them away fast enough. i read somewhere crowley beat them by love, i think it was in confessions, but i find them hard to love when they suck my vitality. 
i lay down exhausted from them, lock them out with screens, finish my book, 'may we be forgiven' by a.m. holmes, a fantastic novel, the new great american novel, i loved it. 

i start, and within 24 hours finish 'the demonologist' by andrew pyper, another brilliant novel, a horror novel with a difference, it's intelligent. i liked it, it was frightening and smart, it had a great protagonist, a milton scholar whom does not believe, yet faced with inconclusive proof faces his fear and does his duty. it's really good and will become a film as soon as some hollywood person reads it.

i finish the book, and find it hard to launch into another, i feel tired, end up sleeping from 7pm until 6am. i wake twice through the night but fall asleep quickly again. in the morning i find 'bellman and black', a ghost story, i pick it up and start reading, it's filled with rook lore, i like those bits but find the story predictable and dull.

i finish it quickly and pick up yet another gothic novel, this is the massive novel by joyce carol oates, 'the accursed' which i launch into admiring her strange story telling techniques, her multiple narratives, the gothic southern states come alive and i feel although i vaguely know where this is going the journey there will be quite magnificent.

its hard to feel anything significant other than a drive to read, i know these states, they are infrequent and i must sate the appetite, my lust for words and a good story.
the days are passing, i am strapped for cash so when i find $100 in my sock drawer i'm surprised and enthralled by the fact i can actually fill my car up with petrol, not that i have anywhere to go but it's always a good option. 
when the migraine passes i bake some cakes, strange fruit and nut cakes, an experiment, following a recipe kate gave me, of course i never follow recipes, i always create mutations, nothing is ever made the same way twice. my cakes are improving, i'm slowly getting the hang of it, although these are heavy with nutrition over taste. i figure i need some sustenance other than green smoothies, coconuts, kin wah  spelt quinoa, and maggie beers fig ice cream. the cakes are good, i'm only able to eat one piece a day, they are packed with energy, like a new battery. hopefully with the sun i can convert this into some creative force or at least get stuck into my garden again, which looks worse shabby and sad.