I wake up in the last apartment I had lived in. It is early and the sky is magenta and purple when I slip outside, letting the new name on the apartment lease sleep a little more.
I am awaiting a call from the editor, the call we had scheduled last week. This is today's agenda, once I get home, once I return from the unforeseen ending that has not yet ended. Remember that plot points exist only in retrospect.
The editor says the essay is of interest to the head editor. The editor on the phone is the editor reporting to the head editor. The editor on the phone relays the head editor's suggestions for a revision. Take out this line. Add three more pages. Are you open to this?
I look at my calendar to gauge an appropriate due date for myself. I cannot bring myself to suggest a time before January 8, when Mercury Retrograde will end after it begins tomorrow. Specific aspects of life directly affected by Mercury being in Retrograde include travel, communication, and publishing.
"How does January 9 sound?"
Everything should be fine if this year will still end.
I leave the editor to report my responses to the head editor while I head out to get on the train.
Where non-fiction becomes novel is the intersection of perspective. Is truth your favorite element of style?
A faux-pas that is only faux that is still fashionable.
I am not expecting good news in the present to predict better outcomes in the future, but rumors can be translated as facts with the proper conjugation of actions. When the future becomes the past tense.
How do we relieve our tenses?
When I meet him for dinner I am given news that is neither good nor bad, neither certain nor secret. I am given information that is not up to me to define. I am holding a subject while wearing a blindfold and listening to its acousmatique changing of our course, and not just from entrée to cheese plate to train home.