As comforting as the piano sonata playing in the background is and as warm and comfortable as I am beneath the comforter with a cup of chamomile tea resting beside me on the end table, the sneezing that comes along with severe allergies has me frustrated to no avail this week. I don't think I've had an attack this bad since childhood.
"Where art thou, Benedryl," my mind asks before motioning my body to rise from the chair and retrieve several tablets of the antihistamine. A strange thought -- that there could be a being separate from biology inside me telling the body what to do when. I wonder, do all multicellular beings regardless of size experience conscious thought? Could it be that the brain has nothing to do with consciousness but that consciousness is simply something that arises from being a multicellular organism? Clearly, allergies are playing havoc with my thoughts on this day.
The Journey of Samson Pyne will be arriving within the next few months. I had hoped for an earlier release (before March), but the chapters still need a little polish according to my editor. Specifically, the manuscript is still a bit long for a novella and the pacing in the last half of the book needs a bit of an adjustment. Fear not, though, this project will soon see the light of day even as another resides in the darkness awaiting its turn to shine.
Regardless of the parts of my brain that fail to function correctly, I am continually surprised and inspired by the literature it is still capable of producing.