Hair of the dog

TGIF called for a couple of drinks at work, followed by a few more at home. In other cultures that would probably be termed as binge drinking but here in lovely Aotearoa since I wasn’t vomitting in a gutter somewhere it’s just counted as a quiet night in. Not that I was falling down drunk, just at the stage when I’m easily distracted and have an opinion on everything. Which means said opinions are somewhat disjointed and  can (and often do) just evaporate mid sentence.

I slept like the dead drunk – no vivid dreams to try and remember, just black oblivion. I awoke this morning without a hangover, well; without a physical hangover. No furry tongue or pounding head. My stomach is not delicate, I am glad for the meagre sunlight.

But I seem to have awoken with a psychical hangover ( yes it’s a real word! And I mean it as in of the soul and mind not the ability to see into the future – dang it! It is Lotto day!).  I don’t know what my brain was tinkering over while my ego was out of action, or maybe who (or what) was tinkering around in there; building new synapses whilst I slept on.

I woke with a very clear feeling that Kiwiana Charlatan, while complete in itself, is not the entire story. That there are other stories to be told around it.

Perhaps it is because of the research and thinking around the (brave new)world they’re in that didn’t make it to the cut, perhaps it is because we’ll be reading it today at my writers’ group, perhaps it is because someone suggested that it might be a novel.

Perhaps it is just my half cut method proving its worth once again…

Perhaps it is because I’m thinking about my novel again and KC has become the tempting mistress again. But there is more work to come, but maybe I’ll wait until the next draft to start!

As they say in the Tui ads – yeah, right!

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