Horror Novels Will Tear Us Apart
I'm working on my horror novel. I'm listening to Joy Division and it seems like the perfect soundtrack for all kinds of writing: fiction, letters, emails, Livejournal. You name it. If I had known this yesterday, I would have listened to them while working on my CV. I dispatched it this morning to my temp agency -- they are close to getting me a job. I won`t mention what exactly until I have it - curses and all that. The job seems like a dream come true. I still don't know the catch and, frankly, I don't care. All I want is money at the moment. I'm willing to go back to monkey work.
We've been watching episodes of Twin Peaks' 1st season. We'll watch episode 4 tonight. David Lynch is love. I can deal with his form of kitsch because there's something rotten behind it. I also love his soundtracks and his juggling of the sinister and the quirky. When Kevin visited Corrego do Bom Jesus, he said it was the Brasilian equivalent of Twin Peaks. We were using a pay phone right on a dirt road somewhere between my farmhouse and the town. The pay phone had been built in front of a house and we could see a silhouette pressed against the front window's stained glass, trying to hear our conversation. Then, from down the dirt road, I saw my grand-uncle Pepe shuffling towards us. Pepe has a moustache, is about 4 and a half feet high, Spanish, bald, and hardly speaks comprehensible Portuguese eventhough he's been living in Brasil for decades. Kevin stared at Pepe in wonder as he stopped to talk to us then continued on his merry way.
I'm going to brew a cup of echinacea & raspeberry tea, pour some honey in it, then return to my homework; I need to have a section of my novel ready to present for my creative writing class on a future Saturday. I have a feeling I`m the only one writing genre fiction. Nobody understand us, paperback writers.
We've been watching episodes of Twin Peaks' 1st season. We'll watch episode 4 tonight. David Lynch is love. I can deal with his form of kitsch because there's something rotten behind it. I also love his soundtracks and his juggling of the sinister and the quirky. When Kevin visited Corrego do Bom Jesus, he said it was the Brasilian equivalent of Twin Peaks. We were using a pay phone right on a dirt road somewhere between my farmhouse and the town. The pay phone had been built in front of a house and we could see a silhouette pressed against the front window's stained glass, trying to hear our conversation. Then, from down the dirt road, I saw my grand-uncle Pepe shuffling towards us. Pepe has a moustache, is about 4 and a half feet high, Spanish, bald, and hardly speaks comprehensible Portuguese eventhough he's been living in Brasil for decades. Kevin stared at Pepe in wonder as he stopped to talk to us then continued on his merry way.
I'm going to brew a cup of echinacea & raspeberry tea, pour some honey in it, then return to my homework; I need to have a section of my novel ready to present for my creative writing class on a future Saturday. I have a feeling I`m the only one writing genre fiction. Nobody understand us, paperback writers.