What Are You Doing?

8am now, still intermittent drizzle thus no ride today.
Havin' nice warm stew etc right now, doing stuff here and waiting for posthuman to hit me letterbox around 10, then head into village.

Drove home yesterday and no scraping sound, the driveway is home to a rather large muddy puddle during rain, thus I coulda picked up something that lodged in me brakes, so a definite thrash over The Sidling this morn to see how the mounts feel.

 

When you don't like yourself, one course of action to counter this is to hate others, thus some folks can manufacture a ton of hatred in order to block out their own self worth issues.

Not a fan of the term 'terrorism' as that adds fuel to the propaganda of the false narrative created to cover over who are the actual instigators of the eventual violence folks do to others.

 

I've decided to bite the bullet and start typing up the completed story I've hand written into 1 and a half notebooks (to maximize space, 1 line of standard lined paper = 2 lines of tiny writing).
I've finished typing up chapter 1 (6,430 words).

ON TO THE NEXT ONE

 

I'm taking notes of the day, and seeing forums. Should be sleeping...

Tomorrow is Friday, and this is a good thing to me. I wish I could have a better job, which gave me more spare time. It isn't possible around here though, I guess. Maybe in Finland...

 

Roof reportedly lived a rather isolated, unsuccessful life. If there’s one thing white nationalism offers, it’s a wide gallery of “enemies” to focus on, however misplaced. Plus, he got to brand other whites cowards for not sharing his views. Instant superiority.

I can see “terrorism” functioning as a buzzword in many contexts. All the same, most governments and monitoring organizations seem to think there’s value in separating politically-motivated acts like the massacres committed by Roof or Mateen (or Timothy McVeigh, to use the deadliest example in recent US history) from more “generic” (need a better word here) violence. Different animal.

 

Just banging my head against the wall. Same ol', same ol'. And this is where interesting stories come into play. Through real life fuck ups of epic proportions.

 

It's really early and my brain is sure there was a bee sting on a cock. Since it could ride a bike I assumed it was a well trained rooster... this is sort of when my brain went back to sleep.

 

Started a new story, about 600 words in, and watching Black Mesa playthrough.
Feels good to be writing something, so well that is good I suppose.

 

Listening to Frank Sinatra and Doris Day on repeat.

Class. Simply class.

 

How about the roosters? I guess those doesn't land you in as many law suits.

 

Pay a lawyer to handle your... rooster?

Whatever floats your boat.

 

I work with boxes. I never have to deal with cocks, roosters or law suits in my professional life!

 

Mrs. A often tires of the long list of innocent English words that do double-duty as smutty euphemisms. "Box" is on that list.

 

Lost always giggles like a school girl when I talk about my job

 

Debating whether to cut my hair.

 

I'm excitedly listening to the thunder of an oncoming storm. Ready to enjoy the weekend of rhythmic sounds from driving rain.

 

How short? Which style?

I get back from the kiosk. (I bought a pack of cigarettes). I make a fresh cup of coffee and sit in front of my screen, displaying my WIP which I haven't touched for months. I dive deep inside my personal world's setting and character's psychology and go on to light my first cigarette just to be thrown back to the most uncomfortable reality, that my lighter just betrayed me. I embark on a treasure hunt for a lighter or a match. The house is completely devoid of any modern means of lighting up a fire... or is it? I find the camping gas. I flick a spark with the lighter. Mission accomplished. I feel like Macgyver all the while my original inspiration goes to hell.

 

I'm hunting down cheques, on today, the most holiest of days. Some of which were supposed to be helping me pay last months bills. So instead of sending polite emails, I'm making passive aggressive phone calls.

 

Not sure, and not fully decided yet. Though I intend to post in tavern's when I've done it.

 

Phase 1) Polite emails
Phase 2) Passive aggressive calls
Phase 3) "I first produced my pistol and then produced my rapier. I said: "Stand and deliver, or the devil he may take ya!""

 

Well hot damn, the villain of my Colonial Mystery FINALLY reveals himself. And it only took eleven years!

 

That sounds like a long book!