Sacrifice

Had to get a new keyboard today. Sometimes it feels like the Universe is trying to thwart my every move. A chain of events, starting with the suspension in the springs of my car trunk giving out . I was unloading the groceries when the trunk slammed down on my fingers. I haven't felt pain like that since the dishwasher incident. To make a long story short, the nails on my right hand turned black and blue, and about twenty minutes later, the nail on my right index finger came loose.

All I can think about is finishing up the script. When I'm sitting at the computer, it's like time doesn't exist. Three hours goes by and in my quantum experience it feels like three minutes. When I have to break to eat, shit, shower or sleep I resent it. Human interaction is painful, it's hard to focus on what people are saying - the guy at the supermarket kept rambling on about his nephew's briss, and all I feel is this obsession to keep churning out the story. So having my fingers mashed is a major inconveniance, to say the least. I soaked my sore fingers in rubbing alcohol, which hurt slightly less than the accident, wrapped them in gauze and got back to work.

After about four hours of typing, I guess my finger with the missing nail started to bleed. I didn't even notice, until the 'K' button started to stick. I looked down and realized that I had leaked blood right into the keyboard. I did my best to wipe it off, but I was on a roll, in that fever pitch of writing and I didn't want to stop. Normally the pain would have registered, I'm sure most people would take a few days off to rest their injured fingers. But I've experienced enough creative blocks in my time to know that you don't look a gift horse in the mouth. When the floodgates open, you go with it. I feel so connected to this story, I swear it's almost like someone is dictating it through me and I'm just the vehicle to bring it into physical reality. And this unseen entity is a slave driving taskmaster, that won't let me rest or have any peace of mind until the job is complete. So I chugged some whiskey and Advil and kept pounding away at the keys. I must have written a good five pages before I even realized that the bleeding was getting worse.

The middle row of keys finally wouldn't respond, no matter how gently I coaxed them. So, first thing today I got up and went out and bought a new keyboard. Fingers are wrapped in thicker gauze now, which causes a few more typos, but I'm getting the hang of it. I'm warmed up now, gonna go dive back into it.