yes you're zero
I am on twitter.
If wait waiting want watch watched watching way week weekend weird went whats words work write writing wrong www yeah year yes you're zero doesn't sum up my web presence, I don't know what would.
After work, the plan was to stay downtown, flit from food court to coffee shop to wherever, and away from the distractions of the internet, write. Time is against me, tomorrow is group, Friday is May 1st ( for fucks sake), and I'm not even out of act one yet.
But all went to hell when my shitty dinner led to a sudden flaring up of dental misery, a burning itch in the gums that quickly became outright pain. So that idea got tossed out, and I headed home, both in pain and disappointed. Jump ahead six hours and two half-pills of vicodin, and my jaw still hurts something fierce. It's bad. It's stupid dental emergency bad. Again. (The thing is, this is the tooth they put the damn filling in already: it's that tooth that hurts... maybe they coulda done a filling that would solve the problem, huh? I don't know.) Because of my jaw, I haven't eaten since six-thirty. Because of the drugs, I've been nauseated this entire time. Also, did I mention I'm in pain? I did? Good. Because I wouldn't want you to forget.
Yet I did manage to write. I'm on page 25, it's too talky and I'm just short of that fucking Act One turning point, goddamnit, but the pain and nausea and empty-belly are outpacing my ability to slog through the weak all-dialogue flat-character unfocused-motivation scenes I'm putting down.
So tonight I may surrender. I have something for group... I just wish it'd been something good. I can show them my bullet-point half-in-code outline of the entire thing, too, and talk them through it. Assuming I'm not in worse pain tomorrow night, that is.
Assuming I can get any sleep tonight through this fucking pain. Shit. Do I take a second vicodin? Shit.
Because fuck me, this is a lot of pain.
If wait waiting want watch watched watching way week weekend weird went whats words work write writing wrong www yeah year yes you're zero doesn't sum up my web presence, I don't know what would.
After work, the plan was to stay downtown, flit from food court to coffee shop to wherever, and away from the distractions of the internet, write. Time is against me, tomorrow is group, Friday is May 1st ( for fucks sake), and I'm not even out of act one yet.
But all went to hell when my shitty dinner led to a sudden flaring up of dental misery, a burning itch in the gums that quickly became outright pain. So that idea got tossed out, and I headed home, both in pain and disappointed. Jump ahead six hours and two half-pills of vicodin, and my jaw still hurts something fierce. It's bad. It's stupid dental emergency bad. Again. (The thing is, this is the tooth they put the damn filling in already: it's that tooth that hurts... maybe they coulda done a filling that would solve the problem, huh? I don't know.) Because of my jaw, I haven't eaten since six-thirty. Because of the drugs, I've been nauseated this entire time. Also, did I mention I'm in pain? I did? Good. Because I wouldn't want you to forget.
Yet I did manage to write. I'm on page 25, it's too talky and I'm just short of that fucking Act One turning point, goddamnit, but the pain and nausea and empty-belly are outpacing my ability to slog through the weak all-dialogue flat-character unfocused-motivation scenes I'm putting down.
So tonight I may surrender. I have something for group... I just wish it'd been something good. I can show them my bullet-point half-in-code outline of the entire thing, too, and talk them through it. Assuming I'm not in worse pain tomorrow night, that is.
Assuming I can get any sleep tonight through this fucking pain. Shit. Do I take a second vicodin? Shit.
Because fuck me, this is a lot of pain.