Just the usual going on here these days.
Once they had a book in hand, who knew when they would put it down again? They skimmed through them, allowing passages to catch them like fishing nets and carry them down into the depths of their sea.
I have a lot of balls in the air right now, it feels like, along with the normal stuff, shipments coming in and out, newsletter going out on Tuesday, music practice, laundry, ordering groceries online. This makes it seem like I don’t do much, and sometimes that’s not far from the truth. I’ve been extremely prolific in letter writing, that most important and productive of tasks. We are vaguely unlockdowning, and it’s a bit chaotic. The shops have reopened, which feels like one massive task done. Reopened! Check.
I joke about Chicken being a defective shop because he mostly is, but actually I’ve come to realize that he is more aware of things that I would normally give him credit for.
We just launched a new ink with Ferris Wheel Press, and I’m so pleased and proud and thrilled and of course a little nervous with how it’s all going to go. It’s a rich, warm brown with some light green sheen, and it’s called Writing Desk, one of my favourite places to be and dream about, the one I actually sit at, and the one that I imagine for myself some place by the water.
I’ve been writing letters these past few days, weeks. I find I need some momentum to really get going, otherwise one greeting card in the mail for a special occasion just wipes me right out.