आत्मन्
Stayed in by myself and read some and listened to music and watched The Blue Lagoon on Hulu until almost four in the morning. The Blue Lagoon was a funny movie. It was so obnoxious and bad that I think it may be the exception. It somehow transcended its early-'80's tackiness... to become... endearing? Like the wet cat that's so ugly it's kind of cute, or Susan Boyle. Against my better instincts, the movie satiated some isolationist fantasies. Not a particularly well-made feature: poor pacing, hardly the best cinematography, annoying characters, really over the top music... somehow balanced out with its ample whimsy.
And yet more proof positive that, logically, I could get paid for my writing.
We're supposedly meeting with Conor this weekend to finish the third draft of Adobe Darlings. I am convinced it won't happen; that is: I've begun conditioning myself to expect the worst so that in the unlikely instance the best or even the acceptable might happen, I'll be even more pleasantly surprised. Unfortunately, I seem to have an excess of hope, because the conditioning is just a bargaining process, and really, I expect things to come together. So it's all just a silly game I'm harassing my psyche with. That is: I really am convinced it won't happen, because it hasn't happened for the past four or five seven weekends.
I'm proud of the fact that I'm honest with myself. I wish my self was more honest with me. (Actually, logically, it's probably the opposite.) I should be more honest with people.
"Did you know crows speak to each other in dialects that differ from region to region?"
But holy shit about Susan Boyle, right? I'd heard about it and first figured to ignore it. I totally wanted to be hard-ass and don't-give-a-shit, but that broke me up. That really opened up my sensitivity ducts.
And yet more proof positive that, logically, I could get paid for my writing.
We're supposedly meeting with Conor this weekend to finish the third draft of Adobe Darlings. I am convinced it won't happen; that is: I've begun conditioning myself to expect the worst so that in the unlikely instance the best or even the acceptable might happen, I'll be even more pleasantly surprised. Unfortunately, I seem to have an excess of hope, because the conditioning is just a bargaining process, and really, I expect things to come together. So it's all just a silly game I'm harassing my psyche with. That is: I really am convinced it won't happen, because it hasn't happened for the past four or five seven weekends.
I'm proud of the fact that I'm honest with myself. I wish my self was more honest with me. (Actually, logically, it's probably the opposite.) I should be more honest with people.
"Did you know crows speak to each other in dialects that differ from region to region?"
But holy shit about Susan Boyle, right? I'd heard about it and first figured to ignore it. I totally wanted to be hard-ass and don't-give-a-shit, but that broke me up. That really opened up my sensitivity ducts.