Blargh

The SASE embargo continues.

My sinuses are attacking, and have eaten my brain.

I'm making notes for a maybe-book, and finding all the fun stuff that isn't a plot.

Have another poem.

( Nocturne - Dorothy Parker )

(no subject)

I can hold a job, maintain a relationship, and generally show up places on time. But because the universe demands balance, I can never decide where I want to eat, or what novel I should work on next.

Maybe if I was a flakey bum I could finish two books a year without a dozen false starts along the way.

Or maybe I could take all the novels I have 15k on and smoosh them into one book. It might be hailed as a literary masterwork.