The [new] computer is now working. One of those refurbished deals. Man alive, it’s FAST. Whizz! Whoom! Oh hey I can play Candy Crush now. My priorities are catawampus a wee small bit.
Lesson for writers: Send out lots of submissions. Instead of, like, three. Yep. Glad I could help! Volume. Volume is the key here. That way when you get rejected, it won’t seem so thousand percent everyone hates your work. Volume will spread that out a bit. That’s the theory, anyway. Wink!
ABPIP– always be positive in public
Notre Dam has burned. Something ancient, something grandly lovely, something fragile, has been destroyed. For now. It was being renovated. So perhaps something sparked. As it can do. Whomp whoosh, medieval wood ceiling might as well be made of gasoline cans. I did hear great efforts managed to save some of it. And I am glad of that.
People claim terrorists did it. Like Glenn ‘Puppy Eater’ Beck. Or that God is sending a message. [Most of the crazier religious sorts on Twitter.] With various interpretations as to what that message is. Others make jokes or shrug. I guess the football team can still play…seems to be some people’s confused take on the fire there in Paris. [As Notre Dame is a school and…yeah.]
So am figuring out things and stuff on the new computer. It does read my thumb drive/s. That’s excellent well. Very leery of this newish machine. I trusted the old one, after all. Which was also refurbished. And worked for ten years. If not longer.
Oh! Game of Thrones was on all week on free HBO. Which is good. As it was the week my elderly other machine decided to beep forlornly at me to bury it in the computer graveyard known as ‘stored in the closet somewhere’. Yes, I did see the new ep and I am literally a quivering, miserable happy mass of cells. Will Jon accept his birthright? Will Dani find out she’s likely preggers with her nephew’s kid? Will the Night King discover that Cersei is far far far colder than he is? Will Sansa and Tyrion get together for real?? [Heard people contemplating that one…] Arya and the Hound, a new buddies cop spinoff? Brienne and the big red-headed guy? Romance or…? [my absolute fave want them together couple ever on GOT. I am not alone in this one.] So, one zombie dragon took down the Wall?
I was also watching Return of the King, as I had to find a new app to play DVD’s and the like so…and it was right there. Shh. Now. Where were the elves at? Mirkwood and Loth-whatever? [Did they all go get on the ships? All of them?] I mean, that group of elves showed up for the Battle of Helm’s Deep. The elves couldn’t send twenty or so to fight in the big ass giant battle in ROTK?? What about the dwarves? Gimli cannot be the only dwarf left and he was a fearsome, awesome fighter. So? Was there some plague that killed off the dwarves or they were busy or…did I miss that in the umpteen times I watched the LOTR movies?
So!! I have two books for sale. House on Clark Boulevard and Oregon Gothic. They’re GREAT! I also have Aftermath now in editing. It’s about Boise and…ZOMBIES. But aware zombies that run the world. Yeah, now you’re hooked! You’ve always wanted to know about Boise! Ha ha ha!
The computer decided it’s had it. It turns itself on and off at random now. I’ve been moving files over to a thumb drive. So when it does go into that great computer graveyard in the sky, I won’t be screaming about years of writing gone gone gone.
I’m also finding old stuff I had stashed away.
Bits of a story. The start of a play. A cluster of words about hoping 45 has a massive stroke-heart attack in public, which causes public shitting even as he dies in agony live on Fox News. Yeah. Okay!
Another tip for writing. Back. Up. Your. Files.
Well, should go read over a short story I blurged forth yesterday, called One Hour Services. It did not go where I thought it would…Do they ever, though? Isn’t that such an odd joy?
So today’s writing tip/s? Back up your files. I update and rewrite and edit a lot, so I get behind that way. I get LAZY. I admit it here.
Have a lovely week. Thanks for stopping by. I have two books for sale!! Oregon Gothic and House on Clark Boulevard. If you can, I’d appreciate a review. In the future, I should have Aftermath available, as well as the Remarkable Women of Brokenheart Lane. Cannibal bikers, starving old ladies, the nice church ladies of the New World Order!
I skimmed an aggressively positive art-related how to blog correctly post, as you do. When you’re scrolling with a bored WTF am I doing with my life? air over on Twitter or elsewhere.
The social media sites that seem to be the wildly popular versus those who are not, with nobody-land, right there in the middle of those two extremes, being virtually uninhabited. It’s an either/or world when it comes to likes for a post across the social media global-sphere.
Whatever! Totes my goats!
So! 80 percent ‘helpful’ content for those who bother to ‘stop by’ for a visit and 20 percent SELL YOUR WARES. 80/20 which equals a hundred!
So, here’s my advice for writers.
Do not follow my example, ever. There!!
Whatever I do, writers and wannabe writers…you do the opposite. Glad I could help.
Ha ha ha, okay.
I should work up a list of writerly advice. So those that ‘stop by’ can chuckle, shake their heads or nod with wide-eyed wonder at my deep nearly unfathomable wisdom.
It’s an either-or world lately.
I must reflect that here…instead of writing a fifty page monologue with no paragraph breaks entitled, simply, “manifesto”.
Which would basically just be cuss words arranged in, hopefully, some new and startling formations, and which will end with ‘death to all enemies of unicorns’.
Because actually naming your enemy or enemies in revenge-minded cuss word-laced pages means I might have to start a GoFundMe page for a team of lawyers to get me off on the insanity plea.
All of which would make for the blog posts that the blogger who gave the rules for successful art blogging warned against!
Number one rule for writers from me? I guess it’s write. Yeah. Write stuff down. Send it off. Wait for the rejections. It’s a fun and fulfilling cycle that will turn you into a stellar human ‘bean’. Ha ha.
Always end on a happy, jokey note. Develop a heavy thick skin would be my other rule…or pretend to. You can sob in private, after all. You can pretend really hard in public.
That’s what adulting is, after all.
Oh– I have two books for sale. Two!
Oregon Gothic and House on Clark Boulevard.
I also might have Aftermath coming out soon. It’s been in editing for a while, so.
After that will probably be The Remarkable Women of Brokenheart Lane. I’m reading through that now and it’s a hoot! I’m not puking over how bad my own prose is! That’s always a plus plus plus! Cannibal bikers versus wily old ladies in Fallon, Nevada! It’s funny and a lot gross!
No savior is gonna rise from these streets. That’s a reference to a Springsteen song. This post will be, mostly, about the Mueller report as summed up by Trumpie the KKKLown’s toadie, Dildo Barr.
Did I get petty enough to satisfy there?
The longed for report dropped after two years of speculation, anxiety, high hopes and dread. That’s from everyone, in all sides of the political spectrum. Yep. So!
It was turned in on a Friday eve. We all–those tuned it to this reality marathon television show with far too many ep’s, or so it seemed–went WHAT DOES IT SAY.
So, Dildo Barr said he’d prepare a ‘report’. Everyone totally, like, believes KKKlown isn’t shown what’s in it as he doesn’t tweet.
He’s not tweeting!! What?? Has the earth started being round or something????
Yet, at Mar-A-Lardo, there was a giant party. On Saturday nite! Drinking, underage trafficked girls as supplied via China through some other massage parlor outfit…you know it, I know it. Let’s stop pretending, m’kay? Let’s stop pretending only the left peddles nubile children for Satanic rape consumption, geez.
But it’s rich white guys who have an R by their name so it’s forgivable and everyone does it so why are you getting upset, snowflakes??
Ahem. But her emails! Lock her up! Hillary sold uranium. Bill did worse things than Trump, who’s now a real Christian, he’s just learning right now… so how hypocritical are you? Tolerant left my ass!
You hate Jesus and America! Fuck you, commie socialist traitor pigs! Dyke race traitor bitch who hates men! Race traitor! Now go burn down a building, antifa bitch. You lefties are all violent thugs!
—Just to be clear– the above is an actual rabbit hole I got sucked down into when I dared question Der Gropenfuhrer’s gropings—
Lindsey Graham, head of whatever committee that will ‘allow’ the Mueller report to see the light of public scrutiny…partying at Mar-A-Lardo like a pearl-clutching Christian Rock singer. Lindsey Graham, whose dead pal, John McCain, was trashed globally by Trumpie the KKKlown.
Do you like old man cum on your face there, Lindsey? You must. A lifelong friendship means less to you than trying to get MAGA sorts to vote for you? Oh honey.
Dildo pens a four page very hasty book report-like summary of the Mueller report…which, I must emphasize, NO ONE HAS FUCKING READ OUTSIDE OF THE MUELLER TEAM.
Not any of the press.
Not your basic hillbilly strict Constantitutionalistista who reads at a six grade level but can recite 2A like a boss. Just ask em!
Not your average Starbucks-slurping Millennial avocado-breathed weeper.
Not even other lawyers not associated or working on Mueller’s team! Because those working on all this had to turn in their smartphones. Because people don’t talk to actual other people anymore or somethin’.
Barr got it Friday evening, had a four page ‘summary’ out by Sunday of a big ass document that covered two years of crap and stuff that spawned quite a lot of charges, indictments and prison time.
Yet…somehow…KKLOwnstick VonTreasonhead had no idea of the crap and stuff going on about him at rather intimate levels?? He had no idea his fixer Cohen was…??? Or that Manafort…?? Sure, Jan. Sure.
Mueller didn’t clear him or exonerate Trump, by the way.
But that gets whispered and buried. It’s just a big ole Party in the Fourth Reich by the GOP and their toadies, stooges, hanger ons and brown-nosers.
Um, guys? There’s still all those other investigations goin’ on. Um, guys? You might actually have to bribe and threaten a lot more peeps here. Checkbooks out, boys! Flex those stubby tiny fingers! Prepare to write giant numbers you can write off as charity deductions! Ha ha ha!
I’d laugh if this were some other country. This is something that happens in Italy. Or some fourth-world African warlord’s bloodied bit of land. This is Nicaragua!
Or your basic PTA elections. Ha ha, I kid. I kid!
I’m sure those sitting in somewhere like Finland or Narnia are going, WTF is wrong with America that they let this go on? They might use far too polite language and big words. Or not say anything, just roll their eyes as they glance away from the hysterical headlines to get back to their Proust. As they sip fragrant cups of orange pekoe tea while munching ginger bikkies.
These are the times when Americans sadly wait for some savior to rise up, and, well, save them. You realize we really are waiting for Captain America to show up, beat the bad guys to a pulp, deflect bullshit bullets off that shield of his all while saying charming, clumsy things. That the dust will settle, the baddies will be suitably gone, punished, vanished, turned to ash. Then Cap will give us all a giant group hug, smelling of Christmas trees and birthday cake. America will be nice again and sanity will reign once more. Ah! Cute! We Americans are so cute with our savior complex.
Someone else will rise from these streets! A hero will rise! Not anyone we know and certainly not me but… A HERO WILL RISE OH YES. And everyone will rally behind him.
[It’s always a him hero in ‘murica.]
We’ve been trained, too well, that protest and action, unless done by right wing sorts, is bad. So bad. Far worse than whatever is being protested again. It’s far worse to be Antifa than an Alt Right Nazi Tiki-torcher who runs over a woman, kills her, with his car.
Heather Heyer, ahem, ahem!
I wish I were kidding. But.
There is a history of that. Turning protestors into the ones that need quelling and jailed and even killed. They should have been at work or home, not acting like thugs, the snowflakes, lol.
You’ve read the comments, you’ve heard the Fox News snippets.
We’re going to have to do more than wait for our next chance to vote. As the right wing is working super-hard to ensure any vote cast even vaguely left doesn’t count at all, ever, ever again. Which turns America into a one-party country…which turns America into an actual fucking dictatorship.
I wonder, when or if that happens, if the left will still be preaching politeness and waiting, saying things like the wheels of justice turn slowly but they something something. Um, justice? When you pay off the giant debts of a supreme court justice or when you stack the courts with Bible thumpers? Justice doesn’t have a chance, darlings.
These are the times that show us how passive we’ve become. Well, the younger generations seem oddly fired up and ready to savage the older generations into actual corners. Where they will wield chairs as the old lions snarl to the last bitter breath in their bloated moist bodies.
South Korea, after all, took to the streets to oust their corrupt leader. And they’re very polite. And Korean. They don’t even have a Fourth of July!!
You hope someone will throw some nukes at us before it gets to Civil War, Part II, Revenge of the Economically Anxious. I think I’d rather deal with a Mad Max world than try to live in New Gilead. Good thing I already know how to make bread or I’d be no use at all to the Commanders. Hallelujah. Under His Eye.
Book Report by D. Barr, Donnie Rump and Leatherface Graham! For the next hour we’ll wildly speculate and make up stuff that will then be taken as truth! Because news, schmewz, all opinions are true!
As I microwave my ancient morning coffee, which is ice cold, I ponder. I wonder. I’m also ovaries deep back in a Wonderfalls revisit. Talking souvenirs and kitsch objects giving cryptic instructions to a slacker chick. Because reality right now is just…um.
I wonder what it will take the crack the sneering veneer of Trumpikans. An actual murder? I wonder why the Democrats still have their velvet, be nice, gloves on.
Take em off, you squirrels. Take em off.
Stop playing nine-dimensional chess with assclowns swinging battle axes at everything in sight they find scary, threatening or scary. You two groups are not playing the same game. For thirty some years now, dears. Yeah.
I put half a candy cane in my microwaved coffee, by the way. Just for full disclosure. Yes, I still have candy canes left over from Christmas. Shoo fly, that might have been the last remaining bit of one. Can you buy candy canes for Easter? Honest question. I like mint, peppermint, the general mint family. Snapple with mint is still right up there as one of my favorite drinks of all time. Do they still make that? Honest question.
I don’t believe Snapple makes this anymore. My hasty, barely glanced at google search seemed to find no evidence that Mint Snapple is available in March of 2019. Sad. Sad!
Spring has sprung. The spring bulbs planted eons ago yet again shove up their spiky green leaves, with hints that tulips and daffodils will soon follow. Bloom for about three days, then go back to sleep until next year.
The bees, all two of them, buzz about, inspecting me for pollen. Still don’t have any, bees. You’re making me nervous, bees.
Oh look, we still have bees. Global warming must be a hoax if I still see bees…
Seriously, Demo-door-mats, take them gloves off. Why do you think people are so freaked out by AOC??
IS SHE PLACATING THE VERY ONES PUNCHING HER IN THE FACE?
No, squirrels, she’s not.
I should run political campaigns, huh?
I’m trying to be super-cheerful. I don’t think I’m pulling that off. At all.
I’m readying my tiny bit of ground for a tiny garden attempt. My zukes were wildly abundant last year, yet my pumpkins, after a late belated start, were so so.
My eggplant…the less said the better but it was a weird ornamental variety. It tried. It grew tiny little eggplants!
Something kept eating or destroying my cukes and the summer squash never really got its engines running, if you catch my meaning.
The oregano went to town! My dill plant delighted me! The lavender, oh my! Lemon balm, never again. I don’t know what to do with it. I think I’ll try rosemary this year as I love rosemary in pretty much anything. Dill, yes! Sage and thyme! I might just go for spices and zukes and pumpkins.
I actually did manage to make pies from pumpkins I’d grown, after all. At least three!
I just need to work on my pie crust skills. Ouch. Ugly pies but they taste okay. I’m ashamed! I watch all those baking competition shows! My pies look like something that fell on the floor, then got stomped on by buffalo. I can and will do better!
I also need to dust off a novel that needs working on or finishing or…I’ll put a note up, stare at it a lot.
Work on novel.
Work on play.
Work on screenplay, you ditsy scatterbrained hagfish!
[[note– I promise this is cheerful. Fluff. Absolute fluffy kittens and unicorn dreams. ]]
I went to the movies yesterday afternoon. Guess what I saw? Not the cute dragon movie. Not the anti-romance romance comedy that I will probably really enjoy when it finally gets to TBS or TNT. The one with Rebel Wilson. That one.
Yes, that’s the obscure art house pic I suffered through. As those art house pics generally demand that you SUFFER to get to the end without throwing up, falling asleep or generally giving up ten minutes in during the first of many twenty minute monologs on how swift life is by a teen girl working retail as her mother does crack in the alley out back.
There were other people there. Sigh. I go to matinees because they’re [A] cheaper and [B] not attended by other people. Okay, whatever! Popcorn rustles, comments flying about me, soda pop being sucked loudly through hollow plastic tubes. The sounds of cinema! I arrive just before the previews start, so I don’t have to sit there pretending not to be making snide mind comments about everyone else there. As you do.
Previews. Avengers!! Tony Stark in outer space giving some sort of Hamlet-like speech. Captain America filling up with HOPE that some Hail Mary plan will work against a [guy, thing, god, dancer, evil bad farmer, etc?] who just took out half the known universe. What’s this…a new avenger might join in to CHANGE THE GAME? What???? Yeah, I’m so going to this it’s not even funny. I’m a weak-souled consumer drone mind-raped by Hollywood’s Satanic influences. You heard it here first.
LION KING. Now!! I’ve seen the cartoon version X number of times. Yet! I’ve got oddly wet eyes, so there must have been a drive-by onioning. Shouldn’t a live-action movie about animals use, um, actual animals who are not…Stop that, brain! The heart is sobbing right now! Shut up, brain! Disney, how dare you pile on the pathos!! How dare you!
There’s also a preview for a movie I’ve already seen soundly panned and ‘not wanted by anyone’– Dark Phoenix. Which is Sansa Stark getting all evil on Mr. Tumnus. There’s lots of screaming, explosions, people in extensive makeup with superhero hair looking truly magnificent. I wanted to see it. How evil does Sansa get?? Like, super-evil or just mildly evil where she kicks a puppy then goes to work for the ASPCA? I’m hooked! I also can’t wait until it’s on TNT in two or three years. Yay! Also, maybe the X-Men can call on Dani and her dragons to KICK DP’S bottom. Oh my, the crossover potential there. Game of Thrones meets X-Men. Somebody get on this one, stat!
I could just do a blog post about listening to people snack in the near-dark and my reaction to the various trailers.
Here we go:
Captain motherfucking Marvel.
That’s a Sam Jackson shout out.
Pretty much what you expect to happen, well, happens. Plot? There was an actual twist here that was pretty solid. I thought it went well. It was set up through memory loss flashes. Plus, any time you have a British guy in an American superhero movie…yeah.
Ooh, that was a sort of spoiler. Yikes!
But I had my suspicions. I don’t trust people who seem ‘nice’. They’re just not. In real life or superhero movies.
Carol, played by Brie Larson, was everything Girl Power needs. She’s fierce. She’s a fighter. She’s got hot hands…hands that light up and shoot lasers. Or fire. No, lasers.
She’s also a hothead who’s…wait for it…emotional. [I let out an actual WTF gasp at this.] Of course the Nice British Guy [Jude Law] hammers this one over and over and yet over again.
Our heroine also keeps having this memory of a female scientist [Annette Benning], being an Air Force pilot, having a life on earth. Vers, as she’s called now, lives on the Kree planet…here I just clocked out. More comic worlds I should know like the back of my hand??
God damn it, no thanks. I have enough crap crammed in my cranium at any given moment.
So we get Vers crashlanding through a Blockbuster after chasing the Bad Aliens, who are shapeshifters. Who can be ANYBODY, right down to their memories. Some of their memories…again, I checked out here, just rolling my eyes.
The movie took place in the Nineties. Ah.
Nostalgia, you tricksy blighter. Everybody laughed and sighed over the Blockbuster bit. The Blockbuster here in Ontario, Oregon went under overnight seemingly. In a day. It’s now a gym or get your taxes done here office front.
CM goes on a Journey of Discovery with Sam Motherfuckin’ Jackson, which is Great Fun. We get to see her Kick Ass. A Lot. She was a one-woman Rambo aboard the Bad Aliens ship, after all. Well, she beat the crap out of large groups of extras. Those scenes where Our Hero or Heroine [Yay, girls can be heroes, too! Yay!] takes on legions and just GOES TO TOWN on their bottoms. Yep!
So, we get the Plot Twist. We get the Betrayals. We get the Moments of Doubt. We get the If You Need the Suit You’re Not a Hero moment that all Marvel movies seem to employ unblushingly. [I just watched one of the new Spiderman movies, where Tony Stark says this to Spiderboy.]
Now. All of that? I still enjoyed the ever-livin’ crap out of this movie. I was glad I left my house to go see it. I enjoyed the heck out of the trailers. I could totally get away from how my country seems hellbent on installing an actual dictatorship…Her Emails! Lock her up!! Build the wall! Fake news!
I felt an odd Captain America type hope that a Hero Will Rise. And save us. From ourselves. So we don’t have to do it. Yeah. The Home of the Brave and the Land of the Free fully expect to be saved from themselves by some superhero unicorn sort that everybody can get behind…ha ha ha ha. Sob. Okay!
Oh my goodness, there’s the thing with the cat in Captain Marvel. Ha ha ha. There’s also the rather sweet shout out to Stan Lee in this movie. Ah!
To sum up this Not Really a Movie Review so much as a Sprawling Mess, I really liked Captain Marvel. It fired on most of its cylinders. She wasn’t the grim awfulness of a Gamora. She was more a combo of Starlord and Wonder Woman. While your head explodes for various reasons from that…ha ha ha. Done exploding yet? Okay!
She kicked ass. Lots of ass. In satisfying ways. Things Blow Up. In satisfying ways. There’s a pretty good dogfight battle with Best Friend of Cap Marv. I liked it, anyway.
And the quickie scene after some of the credits played…yeah. You sit there, along with a few others, waiting for it. Waiting for it. Ah! What??!! Holy crap, so going to Avengers! Satan, see you in a few weeks!
It’s beginning to look a bit like spring time! I turned the earth over yesterday for my mini garden, Year Two. I’m also moving the stumps to New Locations. I am cognizant of both function and decoration via my mini garden. I am also eyeing the places where rabbits and ground squirrels like to visit. Plus, there’s the New Puppy. She likes to dig. Investigate where the humans go. Check out why the humans do this or that. I have a feeling my mini garden might not survive New Puppy.
Politics. If I. It’s just. WTF. I??!!
After that above enlightening delve into the current state of American politics, let’s move on. Oh sure, there’s a political rant in there eight miles long. It slaps the Spirit in the Sky, nut punches Jesus and generally includes words better suited for our POTUS and the Locker Room Boys known as the GOP. Anyhoo!!
What am I working on. Nothing.
I don’t have a PROJECT on deck or waiting in the wings. It just tires me to even think of rumbling up the engines right now. Or ever again. Which is troubling, to say the very least about that.
I have the Oregon novel. Which deals with the sorts that took over the Malheur wildlife refuge over by Burns. I really do wish to work on this. Eventually. It interests me. I like doing the research into extremist radical gun-toting scary ass militia groups as well as Oregon history. Scraping some sort of novel out of all that, interesting as well. But not right now? Or maybe tomorrow. Or.
Rework my Beastface Bay tales. Fuck no.
Start a brand new something. Maybe even a PLAY. What?? I never leave the house. What can I write a play on?
My conversations with the three dogs?
My inner monolog on trying to decide to make a pie or not out of whatever I can find in the fridge?
A family story that’s so boring it’s almost interesting but it’s not? Something I saw in the news cycles????
Seriously, when fiction can’t compete with your basic cable opinion piece on liberals taking their babies home to kill them, reported with a straight face as if true…yeah. You just kinda deflate like a sad little balloon writer-wise. Maybe that’s just me?
That’s total fiction, of course. But all we hear is that LIBERALS KILL BABIES here in ‘murica. It’s going to be a slogan for 2020. It’s predictable. They control the narrative, so they get to direct the narrative with the Lefties playing wide-eyed defense. It’s just…fuh.
Oh no, political rant about to snarl forth like a castrated lion looking for a snack.
Short stories, flash fiction, humorous essays? Mmm. Nope.
I seem to be running on dead writer batteries.
I even scraped myself together long enough to go to a FREE WRITER’S WORKSHOP. In Nampa, Idaho. It was on a Saturday, all afternoon, at the library, which was right by where that other writer’s gathering had been! So I knew how to get there and back again. Score!
It wasn’t in the downtown one-way hell of Boise!
Yeah, I went to the workshops, as there were four of them. I did three, then the fourth had to be held at a coffee shop, as the library closed at five. I just headed home, I’d had enough. All three of those were practical, well run, informative and actually helpful.
Death Rattle is the name of the organization here. I can’t say enough nice things about them. I’m glad they exist and that they’re nearby.
I wish, sort of, I’d schlumped off to the fourth one. The drive back was right as the sun was going down, so trying to see the road turned into GUESS WHERE THE ROAD IS HA HA for me. I also treated myself to a sausage biscuity thing and an outing outside my present comfort zone.
I also felt guilty. I was wasting time. I was feeding my delusions that I’m a writer. I clearly am not a writer because writers, well, for one thing, actually write.
My thoughts all the time. All the time. All the time. A constant punching stream, with me as that bag the boxers hit. Except it’s punchy thoughts that swing haymakers at whatever’s left of my drive, ambition or will to GET SHIT DONE.
Maybe it’s time for the ole writer standby of heroin, wine, mind-altering shit that allows one to be totally oblivious to reality while writing about reality.
I am trying to co-write a screenplay. I should have whipped that out in a couple days. Nope.
To sum up!
I just need to retrain myself to start writing again. Something like that. Just put some crap down on the page! I am in a frightful abyss, looking upward for any bit of light. There isn’t any. I always admire people who are positive, or at least pretending super-alot. The ones who’ve lost their entire family to the local volcano, then found out they have brain cancer. Their dog then gets run over, and their house catches on fire. Yet, that person smiles at the world, going, oh, isn’t that daisy growing through the cracks of that mass grave grand?
Maybe I need to hang out with more creative sorts. That energy seems to sizzle the old writer batteries a bit. Except me and other humans have seldom gotten along. I’m always too much or too little in some way…it’s confusing. Oh sure, just be yourself! If I fucking knew who that is, I’d now be a teacher with a pension plan, a bad perm, wondering what would have happened if I’d followed my dreams…
You get hammered in the face, dear.
That’s what I’d tell that other me. You get hammered in the face and it’s supposed to mean something. That’s pretty grim.
Smile. You look so pretty when you smile!
So, there ya go. You’re all caught up on my Artistic Strainings. Thanks for stopping by. I hope…
mumbles something about almost ready to outline that Oregon zombie novel set during the imagined ages of Middle Earth if it were run by the Narnian minotaurs. Almost ready. Almost.