Hey Everyone
Hey.
I'm still alive.
Today I - Paid rent and banked a cheque. Nice.
I also went to the Stratford Library and Borrowed out Trade Paperback Number 10 of Transmetropolitan.
The last one I have to read before I've read them all. I already read half of it at the library.
Before I forget: Dad, Thanks for the Gloves
I was thinking it would have more impact to attach a picture of the frost on the grass in the courtyard at eight in the morning, but I hadn't taken a picture of it. The other night, when I was at the Mac Shop, I completely forgot about part 2 of my Mission: download the USB interface drivers for a DSC P-10.
The weather is already dry and cold enough that my hands are starting to show damage, but the gloves are helping, not the least in allowing me to walk without my hands jammed into the pockets of my jeans.
Last night I couldn't stand the gnawing feeling of frustrated creativity any more, leading me to type a good two thirds of a short story that has been bouncing around my head for the past couple of months. I'm not sure how it is going, what I'm going to do with it or whether it will be anything more than a pile of dull, self-indulgent twaddle when I finally do tie it off, but it is something that I've written. Once I finish it.
Of course, something like that hasn't been written until it's been rewritten.
I hate rewriting.
Kind of how a Mortician hates sewing a corpse back together after it has been through a combine harvester.
I'm so tired.
After typing for about four or five hours I opened up Cubase and messed around with some plug-ins I didn't really know that I had.
I'm bugging out of here.
Over and out.
J
I'm still alive.
Today I - Paid rent and banked a cheque. Nice.
I also went to the Stratford Library and Borrowed out Trade Paperback Number 10 of Transmetropolitan.
The last one I have to read before I've read them all. I already read half of it at the library.
Before I forget: Dad, Thanks for the Gloves
I was thinking it would have more impact to attach a picture of the frost on the grass in the courtyard at eight in the morning, but I hadn't taken a picture of it. The other night, when I was at the Mac Shop, I completely forgot about part 2 of my Mission: download the USB interface drivers for a DSC P-10.
The weather is already dry and cold enough that my hands are starting to show damage, but the gloves are helping, not the least in allowing me to walk without my hands jammed into the pockets of my jeans.
Last night I couldn't stand the gnawing feeling of frustrated creativity any more, leading me to type a good two thirds of a short story that has been bouncing around my head for the past couple of months. I'm not sure how it is going, what I'm going to do with it or whether it will be anything more than a pile of dull, self-indulgent twaddle when I finally do tie it off, but it is something that I've written. Once I finish it.
Of course, something like that hasn't been written until it's been rewritten.
I hate rewriting.
Kind of how a Mortician hates sewing a corpse back together after it has been through a combine harvester.
I'm so tired.
After typing for about four or five hours I opened up Cubase and messed around with some plug-ins I didn't really know that I had.
I'm bugging out of here.
Over and out.
J
posted by the.exile at 6:31 pm
1 Comments:
Very glad to hear that you're writing.
The world is full of "self-indulgent twaddle."
Don't worry. Just write.
:>)
Clyo
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