Wednesday, February 20, 2008
The key to this exercise is to keep my eyes on the keyboard. Looking at the screen as I type creates feedback, and god knows I don't want that.
So many choices, so few answers. Everyone is the hero in their own story but no one gets to know how it all turns out. Hell, the ending might be happy as all-git-out but then some asshole may tack on an epilogue that ruins the whole thing. Or it might just all be dream. I hate that shit. If you can't decide if life is a dream or not then I'm not terribly interested. In fact, wake me when it's over.
Dang. Looked up again. I can't help it; I make too many mistakes when I type. I can't ignore it; I can feel it happen. I'm using too many semicolons; I must stop. Really, two semi-colons is all a reader can be expected to tolerate. It's like using "all of a sudden." It better damn well be a sudden thing that happens next, but also the sudden thing better be so incredibly sudden that, had I not been duly warned by the phrase "all of a sudden" I might simultaneously shriek, wet my pants, and hurl whatever the offending medium is (book, iPod, computer,...person?) into the air and shoot it.
Such would have to be the suddenness of anything following that phrase.
Now that we're clear.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Unemployment has been kicking me down the gravelly path of self-discovery. I've discovered that left to my own devices I yearn to do little more than sleep, read, and drink weak tea with honey. Glutton tendencies have all but vanished. I can't even remember the last time I ate. I thought I wanted to drink myself stupid but a single beer was enough to satisfy me. I've even gone to a few bars lately and ordered...water.
I recall saying that having only one drink was a sure sign that I was not myself but a doppelganger that should be caught and waterboarded until it revealed my true whereabouts.
Heh, maybe it's just working that makes me an alcoholic. I've discovered the cure!
But I may be getting bitter. Earlier today I joked that since my firing, I've got more time on my hands than Heath Ledger's masseuse.
I immediately regretted it. But I didn't erase it.
Anger makes me joke like that. I loved Heath Ledger and the only way I can deal with it is to make terrible, terrible jokes. It's what any true student of The Joker would have wanted.