'tween

Evening, my darlings and worthies.

I feel exceedingly… twilightish, today. In an in-between state. Hovering on the edge of something, some change… perhaps a change away from writing fiction, to writing poetry for a while. It feels sort of like that. I could deal with such a thing, as long as my fiction-enthusiasm remains for another week, so I can finish up several revisions that just have to be done…

So. Yesterday I went out for beer with some of my co-workers, though I didn't go with them to see The Grinch. I'm sure it's funny, but I wasn't in the mood, and really, the Grinch without Boris Karloff's narration hardly seems worth the time. I left the bar a bit before the rest of them did, and scooted toward Bookshop Santa Cruz, intending to buy Rilke's Letters to a Young Poet (which I did, in fact, buy).

The cops stopped me, and I was ticketed for scooting on the sidewalk.

Argh. This is what I get for living such a rebellious, on-the-edge, damn-the-rules lifestyle. Mother always told me I'd come to a bad end.

I felt sort of bad for the cops, because as they were writing out my ticket, all 7 or 8 of my co-workers came ambling down the sidewalk. They crowded around, asked what was going on, and so on. The poor cops probably thought they were going to be set upon by older-than-average street toughs.

I don’t know how much the ticket's going to be, yet. Probably not a lot-- I can't imagine that it's a lot. But one can never tell, and I could be unpleasantly surprised. In which case this will stop being funny and start being really annoying.

But for now it's still sort of funny. Just before getting my ticket I had swiftly downed a pint of Guinness (on an entirely empty stomach), so in all likelihood I was also Scooting While Intoxicated. I'm a danger to myself and so on.

Last night was altogether odd, I have to say. I felt really out-of-it. I read some Peter Straub (Houses Without Doors, which is weird, man, especially the interlude/vignettes, this guy is seriously off-kilter). My brain felt fuzzy. I took a nap, which is unusual for me any time, practically unheard of on a weeknight. I needed caffeine or vitamin C or something, or to eat less starchy food, I don't know. My generally-wonderful brain chemistry wasn't doing its job.

So, in coming days… I have a four-day weekend starting Thursday. :) I'm having some Thanksgiving fun (have to go to the grocery store tonight for some fixins'), and then a few days of… drumroll please… Novel Revision.

I'm really tired of having these unfinished manuscripts lying around, uncirculating. So I'm going to do a serious burn and finish one (which, admittedly, is pretty close to being finished anyway). Barring the unforeseen (illness, sudden love affair, etc.) I should be able to achieve my modest goal. I want to have a book in the mail before the turn of the year. An arbitrary goal, but that's okay. The new year's got some symbolic power, at least.

There's tentative plans for me and Lynne and Scott and maybe a couple of others to have a biggish meal on Sunday, since we're going separate ways for the actual holiday. I hope that happens; I'll need a break by then. I need to borrow Lynne's french press so I can have coffee during my bout of Revisionmania. I still have lots of yummy Mexican coffee that dear fair sweet Meg brought me from Boone on her last visit. That'll sustain me.

I'm excited about finishing this book. It'll be a load off.

(No fair mentioning the other three nearly-done novels on my desk)

Well, that's enough of this. I'm off to the store. I'll probably write again tomorrow, but if I don't, have a good Thanksgiving, hmm?