Rest?

On the gym front:  I've pulled something in my arms (again)--it's the elbow joint in my left arm this time--and it's been a bazillion degrees the last week, so aside from some elliptical work, I really haven't been going to the gym much.

One the writing front:  the novel is at a virtual standstill, and I'm thinking the best route may be to look at the 52,000 words I do have and break them into short stories.  Lately, I've been not writing more than I have been writing.... I don't know if this is a function of pollen, heat, sleep, "man-o-pause," politics, a mutable Summer schedule that throws routine out the window, binge-watching Queer Eye or what.    On bad days I write less than 500 words; on worse days I write variations along the lines of  "You can't write.  You write crap.  You're too old.   You're too white and cis.  You're not gay enough.  You're too lazy.  You're a fake.  Fake fake fake.   You're not literary enough.  You're not dark enough.  You're not enough."

OK... some of it is related to not getting into an anthology and doing research to try to figure out where the story failed for that particular market.

I might try a stab at personal essay, which used to be fun, but I'm not sure if I have anything new to say.

On the music front: I've been playing my harp more.  Yay me.