Cutting in the Cold Light of the Morning


The last two lines from yesterday: “A couple of Norse spelunkers, the candles tied in their beards smoking, manhandle the ostrich out, and leap after it. An aristocratic woman with bruises on her cheek and a missing earring stabs a fat man wearing gold rings in the throat with a curved dagger.”

I didn’t sleep well last night, caught in a couple of strange dreams (the persistent trickery of the mouse who has invaded our pantry distracting me, as well as the solid impression that we had a minor earthquake last night or the 1.00AM train was especially heavy), and finally realized what was wrong with the ghost train sequence in PSYCHOBABEL. I need to cut most of it, unfortunately, but there may be a few lines that can be saved. Maybe the one about the Norsemen.