word count: 8141
+/-:1855
That’s what we in the business call progress. I’m almost down to having yesterday’s words done. If I can cut into today’s words a good deal, I might catch up with this by the weekend. The scary part: today’s numbers nearly reach 10,000 words. 1/5 of the way — which makes sense, this being the 6th of 30 days. Duh.
Have I mentioned how brilliant Mr. Scruff’s “Keep it Unreal” is? Perhaps not, but I should. And so I will:
frickin brilliant.
word count: 7615
+/-:2381
First, I notice that they speak in better sentences that I ever have, even if they are a bit obsessed with the minutia, and who can really blame them for that — you try spending your days with your only worries about getting enough spaghetti sauce and what time you’re playing ping-pong. Jesus, that sounds beautiful.
I suppose they do have bigger problems than that, especially the ones who think the CIA is out to get them, or that the Maharishi is personally brainwashing you, but you have to admit, a little spice like that in your life might be just what you’re looking for. But really, you’ve got to learn to keep your cool, because otherwise you’re going to end up scaring off everyone in your life. People don’t tend to like to hear that sort of shit, and they’re going to skip out on you the first chance they get. That’s why all these guys have nowhere to go but their halfway house and this café, their home away from their home away from home. And they have nothing to do but annoy and generally creep out the folks that come here. They’re rarely harmful, and they’re often amusing, but more often than not, it’s just more than you ever want to deal with.
“I love the Gateway. They have steak and they have pork chops and they have shrimp and they have salad and they have everything you could ever want.”
“Gateway’s okay.”
“Okay? Okay? Gateway’s the best! Oh man, they have salmon and swordfish and…”
Shut the fuck up! But it’s not me yelling that, it’s not anyone yelling that. It’s the fervent wish in my head, the words reverberating in my skull, their words reverberating in my skull as if I’m having a conversation with myself about this particular restaurant. I try to chase it away…
…I am the calm center of the universe I am the calm center of the universe I am the calm center of the universe…
…but it doesn’t work. It never does.
Of course, one week into this whole thing, I have an idea for an even better novel. Just a gimmick, really, but I really like it. It’s kinda been done before, but not to the extent that I’m thinking. Honestly, I’d tell you all but I know you’re all thieves and would just steal it. You jerks.
Not a bit of writing today. My head won’t let me. Not sure what the problem is. Have I hit the wall? Can I really allow 1600 words to slip by? Woah, especially when I’m short a few from yesterday? Here comes the build-up.
The question is, why hasn’t Kim learned not to hide behind dumpsters?
6584. About 100 words short for the day but I’m frickin exhausted. Sure, I wasted a good amount of writing time playing Shenmue 2, but we all knew that was going to happen. Sixty five hundred words. Eleven pages or so. Haven’t written that much in….blazow.
And just so I can overload this thing…. Here’s your first excerpt. I’m happy with the idea, but I wrote it on the train and was cramped into a seat and unable to expand on everything, but I think it’s good meat for something to blow into, oh, say, 500 words….
There are the twitchers and the mumblers and god knows who else. They all congregate here, or else they are following me around or else they are everywhere. It’s gotten so it’s easy to hide your insanity these days. When everyone has a cell phone, it’s tough to know who’s having an actual conversation and who’s just faking it. Lunatics with hands-free devices walk down the street, talking animatedly and now we don’t give them another look except to sigh and fret about the prevalence of personal communication devices and the need for everyone to be talking to someone that’s somewhere else, when in fact they’re likely talking to someone that’s not anywhere at all.
And then my phone rings, or at least I think it does.
It’s not easy being green….
 |
You are Kermit! |
because they have forced me to paint myself into a corner, be frustrated beyond belief, wipe dust from my desk, cower in fear, close my eyes, live in darkness, hold my stomach, bend my arms, stretch my back, sleep on the floor, flee in terror, cross my i’s and dot my t’s, bend over backwards, take the extra step, take the extra advil, challenge myself, push myself, lie to myself, be myself, hurt myself, hate myself….
….i scream “fuck you” under my breath….
CNN.com – Closing the net: How they cracked the case – Oct. 25, 2002
So DC residents can sleep soundly and stop crabwalking at the gas pumps.
Heard an interesting idea on the radio this morning: a bill that forces gun manufacturers to do ballistic testing on weapons before they ship them, creating a database of weapon info that could be used in event of a crime. I’m sure people would howl that it violates their privacy somehow — but how, really? The only reason to use that info would be to help solve a crime. It just seems to make a lot of sense if you can have guns fingerprinted in that manner….
On another note, Darren Baker nearly got run over last night, but man was it funny.
The Onion | My Novel Addresses Universal Themes Of Humanity And Has Fucking — just about says it all.
Remembering a dream I had a few nights ago — kept meaning to write it down, but most of it’s forgotten. The main point though was that I had to come up with a name for some material that was a combination of satin and flannel. I came up with “flattin” — an idea so funny that I laughed myself awake.