Richard Pierce

Richard Pierce – author, poet, painter

Life, Writing

Day 316

After yesterday’s radio disaster, I’ve moved all the studio gear from the office into our bedroom. I spent most of the day clearing space on some shelves for all the gear, and then almost an hour getting the microphone and its holder to sit somewhere useful and useable, and for the sound of the boom’s spring not to get caught by the mike (because that wouldn’t do, would it, to have the metally springy sound interfering with my voice when I’m talking – especially bearing in mind that I sue this set-up to record spoken word material as well?).Then the software didn’t play ball, and I was getting very frustrated, so decided to walk away from it and go for a long walk. That did the trick – I’d thought about reverting to an old version of the braodcast software while I was out walking, did it just as soon as I’d got in and brought the dew-sodden clothes in off the line (I’d forgotten that M had hung them out before she went out for the afternoon) and chucked half of them in the tumbler (yes, I know it’s electricity we can ill afford, but we can’t afford to be putting on wet clothes, and the indoor drying rack was full to capacity). What a rock’n’roll lifestyle.

The writing on Aggie is getting way too sporadic. I’d planned to put up three new chapters today, but I think I’ll be lucky to put up one.

A horde of black dogs invaded my brain last night, which probably explains a lot, too. Mind you, this new routine of stretches plus, leg raises, plus press-ups in the morning, does have an invigorating and mind-clearing effect. Only problem is that I crave coffee constantly.

B, a good friend and Radio Stradbroke listener, had a cardiac arrest during her hip replacement surgery yesterday. She has messaged me to say she’s fine. I hope she remains so, because she’s one of the very good people, and the world can’t afford to lose her like.




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