It’s overcast and dull and perfectly fallish outside. So after the glorious sunshine of Ontario, and the glorious sunshine upon my return I am feeling poopulous.
440 words. I’m at 80000 words. I should start editing the first one and yet as long as I’m working on this one I don’t want to. Also the more likely I am to start savagely rewriting the first one, and I DON’T WANT TO DO THAT UNTIL THEY ARE ALL DONE so I can use the magic of technology to search and replace and retcon and hang lanterns on things, since I already know I have severe timeline issues, which I have decided for the most part to ignore and to actually include them as being normal because Sixers don’t distinguish between the near past and the far past the way humans do. And in fact the way their memory behaves is pretty fucked up. Oh well. Yes, the more I think about it.
The less I’ll actually write. Time for an Artist Date.
Paul and I walked in the quiet rain in Oakalla yesterday. People drive like idiots in the rain.
Today Mark (a friend of Katie’s) and Paul and I are getting together to make music in the afternoon at Planet Bachelor.
I could do a long rant about how disappointed I am in this year’s new crop of old shows, but the TLDR is that I am kinda done with Castle and NCIS; the characters are boring the hell out of me and the scripts are floppy. NCIS LA I still enjoy the characters but the scripts and storylines are enough to make me want to fly somewhere and kill something, except I’m lying down and feeling like reading library books.
Madam Secretary and The Good Wife continue to please, however. Marvel’s Agents of Stupid Henchthingy’s Idiosynchronously Edited Lesser Diversions is grabbing my attention as well, since they seem to have decided to make every episode this season as exciting as a season finale.
Miss Margot and Buster are scrapping, which means he’s chasing her around and she’s hating it.
Not in ranting mood, sorry.