How did we get here? To this point of living?

November 21, 2009 Progress Notes:

"Nothing But Flowers"

Words today: 275.
Words total: 275.
Reason for stopping: I've laid the sod here, and now I would like to go and read.

Darling du Jour: Their apartment is the epitome of bohemian splendor: concrete-and-plank bookcases, dirty coffee mugs, and old copies of alternative weeklies.

Mean Things: I can't even map that yet. This is less mean and more...well, wry.
Research Roundup: Heartsease, a couple sets of lyrics, which one's the mortar and which one's the pestle. Yeah, I know I should already know that.

Books in progress: Emma Bull, Territory.
The glamour: Today was one of those days where I never actually woke up, and have just been dreaming all afternoon and evening with the small expedient of having my eyes open. Everything is a little grey and hallucinatory and slow, and I would not in the least be surprised if something totally outside of logic just strolled through the door.

Yah. I don't need to do drugs. We DIY altered states around here, thanks.

I did, at least, still make it out to the market for pierogies and soba (where the woman working at the European deli thought my Threadless Communist Party tee-shirt was the funniest thing ever), and I did finish the book review I was writing for Ideo. And wrote an editorial letter. So the objective world wasn't completely abandoned for the day.

Off to read, then.

I held my breath and you said something.

November 22, 2009 Progress Notes:

"The Closet Monster"

Words today: 1000.
Words total: 2100.
Reason for stopping: This is not really how I meant to spend my afternoon, and I need to fix some dinner.

Books in progress: Emma Bull, Territory.
The glamour: Nothing! I wrote when I was supposed to kitchen-clean and cook ahead for the work week! I am clearly a bad person and a shirker who will be eating cafeteria next week if she doesn't shape up.

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Okay, this weekend could stand to be two days longer at this point, for one thing. I haven't managed to get over last week yet, and my apartment is still messy and sleep debt still extant. Stupid murderous last few weeks of legislative session.

In other news, the mob has spoken and I will probably make the Nebula post. It was pointed out to me by a couple people that yes, there is a difference between putting it out there and walking away to do something else and award-whoring, and while I'm still somewhat conflicted on the topic, it's likely preferable to not have Nick Cave remember you as one of the ones who died for the lack of it. I'll get to that tomorrow, then, if I have time for it.

Okay, cooking. Cafeteria food must be avoided at all costs.

So let's get it on.

November 22, 2009 Progress Notes:

"When Your Number Isn't Up"

Words today: 550.
Words total: 1300.
Reason for stopping: It's a good round number, and no reason to push it. Also, my teapot's empty. I don't have to work anymore when my teapot's empty.

Darling du Jour: There was blood in her hair, like light. It caught the light and spilled it, thick and sticky, through sleek black curls like spilled rye. Her face was red, and the patched cream rug was red, and her fingernails were red on the hand that held the stubby pistol. The window was shut, and the bathroom door.

Mean Things: Trauma, bodies, a very quiet haunting.
Research Roundup: Invention of the record player/phonograph, Brit as a male name, where telephone technology was at in 1949.

Books in progress: Emma Bull, Territory.
The glamour: I did, in fact, cook. Hooray for me!

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Went back to work tonight partly because stillsostrange was available for a race, and partly because it's just tickling in my head tonight and I wasn't really going to be content with watching more TV. It got a little recalcitrant at the end, but it wasn't a bad decision to make.

The mini-chapter breaks developed names today; notably, names that are all in lowercase and bits of phrases and very mekkavandexter. I will note that I just work here. Regardless, they seem to fit very nicely. I still have no idea what I'm on about with this thing, but the first chapterlette is mostly continuous narrative and not jumbled pieces anymore.

I feel like a Real Writer (tm) today for the first time in a good while.

It feels good. Clean and sharp and steady. Now, if only I can keep that up during the actual workweek...