"The more you change the less you feel." (6 Vicodin)
Miserable weather here in Providence. Cold. Well, coldish. Chilly? Nasty, regardless. Cloudy. Windy.
Yesterday, I wrote 1,160 words on the second chapter of Cherry Bomb. I passed the 100-page mark with the manuscript, and I passed the 20,000-word mark, as well. Which means I have less that 50,000 words remaining. On Wednesday (of this incredibly short fucking week) I wrote nothing whatsoever. The forestalled trip to South County left me annoyed and turned about.
Last night, my contributor's copy of Weirder Shadows Over Innsmouth arrived. It includes three of my stories: "Fish Bride," "On the Reef," and "The Transition of Elizabeth Haskings."
Last night we made the mistake of watching Dead Like Me: Life After Death, the 2009 direct-to-DVD follow-up to the brilliant Dead Like Me (2003-2004). I knew better. We spent more than four years avoiding this turkey. Then curiosity got the best of me. As it does. Sometimes. Anyway, the less said the better. Dead Like Me: Life After Death comes off like the worst sort of fan fic. If you loved the series it for all intents and purposes parodies, avoid Dead Like Me: Life After Death. Avoid it hard. If you've already seen it, you have my condolences.
Actually, I remember why I didn't write on Wednesday. It was that accidental encounter with Bronie vore porn. Which has taken a place alongside Skunktaur the "herm" furry on my what-the-fucking-fuck hall of fame.
Carry On,
Aunt Beast
Yesterday, I wrote 1,160 words on the second chapter of Cherry Bomb. I passed the 100-page mark with the manuscript, and I passed the 20,000-word mark, as well. Which means I have less that 50,000 words remaining. On Wednesday (of this incredibly short fucking week) I wrote nothing whatsoever. The forestalled trip to South County left me annoyed and turned about.
Last night, my contributor's copy of Weirder Shadows Over Innsmouth arrived. It includes three of my stories: "Fish Bride," "On the Reef," and "The Transition of Elizabeth Haskings."
Last night we made the mistake of watching Dead Like Me: Life After Death, the 2009 direct-to-DVD follow-up to the brilliant Dead Like Me (2003-2004). I knew better. We spent more than four years avoiding this turkey. Then curiosity got the best of me. As it does. Sometimes. Anyway, the less said the better. Dead Like Me: Life After Death comes off like the worst sort of fan fic. If you loved the series it for all intents and purposes parodies, avoid Dead Like Me: Life After Death. Avoid it hard. If you've already seen it, you have my condolences.
Actually, I remember why I didn't write on Wednesday. It was that accidental encounter with Bronie vore porn. Which has taken a place alongside Skunktaur the "herm" furry on my what-the-fucking-fuck hall of fame.
Carry On,
Aunt Beast