It is probably a bad sign when the first words you speak in the morning are to your nose.
It is probably a worse sign when those words are, “Stop running, motherfucker!”
I am spending the day today on rewrites for ye olde novella.
I have kind of been driving myself loony with it lately. Trying to make it “read like a REAL novel.”
Then it hit me the other day, I just want it to sound like me. You know? You know.
And, frankly, it is surprising that it took me so long to arrive at that realization, because I am quite a fan of me.
I want to hide in the bushes outside my house with a thermos of Lipton Cup of Soup and watch me sitting there, all stubble-faced, typing and listening to “No Diggity.”
Oh, I wrote this on a post-it at some point last night:
“I don’t mind killing time, especially considering what it is doing to me.”
(I found a grey chest hair yesterday.)
So, how are YOU today?