Undirected

I've managed to snatch a little productivity from the jaws of inactivity, today, against all odds. So I'm feeling pretty good, and thought I'd let some overflow babble run over here for your pleasure. It'll be unprofound and undirected, though.

Last night I did practically no writing. A little thinking about writing, which is important, but not any real work done. I got some yummy Chinese food with Scott and Lynne (Scott's all better, by the way, for those of you following along with us at home). I watched some television, read some short stories. Nothing too crazy.

I slept in today, and then got up to make an Excessive Breakfast (hereafter "E.B."). Every once in a while I like to make a morning meal so elaborate (and generally greasy) that I feel the need to take a shower and then a nap after consuming it. Not something I do regularly, mind you. I usually don't even eat breakfast. The dish turned out okay (it involved eggs, cheese, ham, bacon, mushrooms, sour cream, toast, and so on), though I made more than I should have. If I'd had someone to share it with... but Tim's been getting out of bed alone these days, so that wasn't an option. Meg would've turned her nose up at the Excess anyway, probably. It's been a while since I've dated an enthusiastic carnivore.

I had grand plans to get stuff done today, and I actually did, at first. I went looking for books, with a couple of specific short story collections in mind. I didn't find them. I got an old Year's Best Horror anthology from the 80's, though. Some good stuff in there, though overall it didn't do much for me. It was a beautiful day, but for some reason I wasn't feeling so hot... probably due to the E.B. I'm really not designed to ingest heavy food first thing. It's somehow bad for me. You'd think I would've learned this lesson in almost 24 years. I saw a woman I have a little crush on at Bookshop Santa Cruz, but I felt so crappy I didn't even make eye contact, let alone flirt. I like to think that I'm not totally gutless... just conditionally. Feeling icky is one of the conditions.

Choosing to resist my ickiness, I read at Pergolesi, then revised "The Scent of Copper Pennies," which is an okay story, I think. I'd been prepared to wince my way through revisions, but aside from line edits, I didn't change it much. It's a quiet little tale, but all my stories don't have to have superheroes and mad scientists and slime gods and reprehensible villains, do they?

I'd printed out "Meranhu's Gifts," to edit, too, but I didn't get around to it. I was restless. So I wandered down to the post office, and got a check from Weird Tales for the poem they bought, which I think is coming out in issue 321, the next issue. I'll let you guys know if that comes about... Then I ate a honey-applesauce muffin and drank some juice, which made me feel much better. I went home and curled up under the window in our big bowl-like wicker-and-cushion chair and read horror stories.

Then... um... I took a nap. On the couch. For quite a while. Woke to a Meg phone call, talked about the grad schools she's applying to. Chapel Hill's the first choice, and we're sort of assuming that's where we'll be next year, but Seattle's also a possibility, and Boston, and N'Orleans, and she's even shooting for the moon and applying to Columbia, which apparently has a really kick-ass social work Master's program.

Roused, I ran some errands, including returning a video. Then, on a whim, I broke down and finally rented Romi and Michelle's High School Reunion. I'd heard this flick compared to Clueless (which I consider a really sweet and endearing film) and to Dumb and Dumber (which I consider one of the most detestable products of the film industry). I figured it'd be bad, but I'd always been tempted by a movie with both Lisa Kudrow and Janeane Garofalo. I felt receptive enough to silliness tonight to rent it.

So I watched that. A cute enough flick, though the entire story is predictable after about 7 minutes. I've got nothing against watching beautiful women, though, and the truth is I'd raptly watch Lisa Kudrow read the results of a soil sample analysis...

So the day seemed like a written-off loss, despite my best intentions. I didn't like that, so I sat down with one of the openings I posted here a couple of nights ago, and started writing. To my surprise, something resembling a story is starting to emerge, and further to my surprise, it's not going to be 13,000 words long, like most of my stories seem inclined to be these days. I wrote about 1300 words, probably a third of the story. I know where it's going, and I'll likely finish it tomorrow.

So, hurray. In other news, D. got a (good) job here in Santa Cruz, and found a place to live in the hills outside of town... so in a couple of weeks, he'll be easily accessible, and there will be much rejoicing. I'll probably go out a lot more, with him around... though his job requires him being 24-hours-in-residence for three days a week, so perhaps not...

G'night, all.