Desperate Need to Write
So, I feel an urgent need to write. Not sure why. I don't feel any inspiration while looking at the few writing projects I have underway, so a short LJ post will suffice.
Read Shadow Unit yet? No?! Go and be amazed. A new media is, if not born, then seriously advanced. Makes me want to create a serial narrative with a small group of contributors. Seriously, go and read it. I'll wait.
Today at the park I overheard a kid say "I was born on 9/11, that day the planes flew into the towers". Can you imagine what kind of icing pictures that kid gets on his birthday cake? Macabre.
Work has been strange lately. I feel a little uninspired. I've arrested and dealt with a number of genuinely crazy people recently, and I realized how fortunate I am. People who think they could never be broken, or damaged, or destitute, or on the pointy end of the stick of life only fool themselves. It can all change in a moment. One bad decision, one wrong step, one terrible ordeal, and life becomes about crawling out of the hole...provided you're bright enough to start crawling.
I feel bottled. I've been re-reading some of my screen-writing books without really thinking about why. If I thought I would ever finish anything I write, I would start working on something. Ah well.
I have paperwork to fill out, court papers to prepare, and boots to shine. See y'all on the flips side.
Read Shadow Unit yet? No?! Go and be amazed. A new media is, if not born, then seriously advanced. Makes me want to create a serial narrative with a small group of contributors. Seriously, go and read it. I'll wait.
Today at the park I overheard a kid say "I was born on 9/11, that day the planes flew into the towers". Can you imagine what kind of icing pictures that kid gets on his birthday cake? Macabre.
Work has been strange lately. I feel a little uninspired. I've arrested and dealt with a number of genuinely crazy people recently, and I realized how fortunate I am. People who think they could never be broken, or damaged, or destitute, or on the pointy end of the stick of life only fool themselves. It can all change in a moment. One bad decision, one wrong step, one terrible ordeal, and life becomes about crawling out of the hole...provided you're bright enough to start crawling.
I feel bottled. I've been re-reading some of my screen-writing books without really thinking about why. If I thought I would ever finish anything I write, I would start working on something. Ah well.
I have paperwork to fill out, court papers to prepare, and boots to shine. See y'all on the flips side.