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March 24, 2023: Seven days left of March

This seems near inconceivable to me. In a week and a day, March will be over. And so here Pete and I are, hustling to get grants done by the end of the month, which is next Friday. This means that, because the weekdays are full, that we must get done what we need to get done, asap. He also finished a Tier 1 grant for the Rasmuson Foundation.


Pete worked on the MEA and the Palmer Community Foundation grants the past few days. I finished one grant for videography, and today made headway on the same, this for MTA.

Our track record on getting grants is really good, so I am going to remain optimistic about this. We started out looking for funding locally, and we are slowly working our way outward. This seemed like the logical way to go about it.

I imagine that a lot of inexperienced nonprofit grant writers get stars in their eyes and go for the big time and seek funding from the well known and highly publicized sources, such as the Murdoch Charitable Trust and the Bill Gates Foundation. I think that in a few years we’ll be considered serious contenders for funding from these places.

See now, where my stream of consciousness thinking is going? It’s now ongoing. It is particularly worrisome that I can’t seem to shut off the cognitive tap at night. The way I do this – and this is difficult, I envision going through what I call the portal – and there continue being an observer of a fictive story, one that has now been ongoing for at least ten years. If in the mornings, I took the time to write down what was going on, I’d now have several more books under my pillow.

There are, on the other side of this portal, several characters, all of whom are associated with a veterinary clinic. Some have figured out how to fly and have made trips to heaven. There they, in their human form, meet up with many of the souls of the deceased. The problem is that they leave having gotten a glimpse of eternal life. They return to earth seriously depressed.

In fact, the first person to fly to heaven got so depressed that he killed himself. He was the head of the veterinary clinic, so this had an adverse effect on the working relationships of all involved with the veterinary clinic.

The story goes on and on and on – I can now pick up on one of the several dramas that I’ve created.

As I handle hundreds of books, I see (often) that many writers work in differing genres. They are not distracted by things like the Bright Lights Book Project. I am learning a lot, but this has put a crimp in my writing activities.

Today I worked in the book cave – I got most of the books boxed and onto the shelves – there are now three sets. This, though, is its own stream of consciousness.

Next: 83. 3/26/23: Books Coming and Going, going, Gone

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