Aug. 12th, 2004

stillsostrange: (Default)
...who tries to sell a story about a ghost, a vampire, and a blues singer in New Orleans. Yeah, I'm that fool. Well, I'll try to finish it before I try to sell it.

Words on Dreams: 352. Sad, I know. They don't want to talk today, the bastards.
Words on The Other Story: 1200. Yeah, there's the love.
Tyop du jour: "Spilled beer and soggy cigarette butts don't stick to the souls of his Docs, and that's something at least." Nope, the souls of Doc Martens are pure as the driven snow.
Sustenance: Hazelnut cream coffee
Excercise: Weights, crunches, and stretchy things.

My cheap and vindictive pleasure of the day was derived from using our giant, phallic electric eraser to clean up underlining and margin notes from a particularly rabid bit of feminist propaganda. Take that, you man-hating book defacers!

21 days till Boston!

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