The forever ever onward of life. And how it never stops going faster.
Schedule two different readings in one night. Get to the first just in the nick of time. Step through the front door of the place and almost immediately onto the stage and into your reading. Flash of your words over the mic, then flash of applause at the end. Step back off the stage and stand at the corner of the bar to listen to ten minutes of story, then another ten minutes of story, other people's words, going by so fast you can't hold them. Say hi to friends who came to see you read, knowing you don't have the time to give anyone more than a quick hello or hug, then rush off for the second reading.
Raspberry Italian soda with ice in a glass. A moment to ground yourself before the second event starts. Try to read more slowly this time, OK? Intimate coffee shop, poets and folk music--still each moment is a flash, then gone, a flash, then gone.
Monday, you could relax, but there's writing to be done. Work on the novel. Think about making a snack. Work on the novel. Think about making a snack. Work so long and deep on the novel that you forget it's Monday and you're supposed to be doing the laundry.
Go to sleep too late, get up too early. E-mails to take care of, and look, pictures from the readings. Make breakfast but run out of time to eat it. Take it in a plastic container to have at work later.
No time for reading, stick the ear buds in your ear. Virginia Woolf and To the Lighthouse in your ears as you walk to work--try not to get distracted from her stream of consciousness by thoughts of all the things you have to get done at work today.
Try to slow it down a bit. Try to stop in the moment. Take the time to listen to the words in your ears and to notice, lying in the street, just past the curb, two potatoes.