My Little Black Book
You know when you hear a song and you can just imagine it playing in a movie?
A song so vivid you can picture in your head as the camera pans over some black and white photos of teenagers laughing. Then the camera zooms in on the high school memorabilia. Maybe a half-seen page from a yearbook that says “In Memoriam.” Presumably, you think, this all belonged to one of those high school students in those photos from 1950′s America.
And you also know one of those kids in those pictures died in a car accident and is about to come back and haunt people in the present.
You know that feeling?
Remember when I got all coy last week about showing you the left-handed sketches I’d been making in my sketch book?
Understandable. It wasn’t that exciting.
Well, I wasn’t going to show them to you until I realized I didn’t have much else to talk about. Here they are.
If something is on the left-hand side of the page, I drew it with my left-hand. If it is on the right-hand side of the page, it was made with my right hand. I blacked out anything I considered spoilery for future projects. Most of it is stuff from the Tide World, although I also have the page where I doodled Cormac and brainstormed ideas on how to turn that into a novel. I have other stuff I’ve sketched with my right hand, such as a diagram for a cat food container thingamajob to keep the Roomba from knocking over the cat food… but it was also littered with my list of errands, so it was both personal and boring.
There’s a very obscure Fantasy author you’ve never heard of, probably, named… oh what was it? Something like Sandon Branderson. Although he’s probably destined to remain an obscure nobody, I thought I’d give him a mention. He’s mostly known for novels and for being one of the most uncomfortably nice people living on the face of the planet Earth but he has recently started to write short stories.
He also takes second place next to Dan Wells for making me feel really bad for ever even privately thinking that all Mormons are happy-go-lucky wunderkinds incapable of understanding sadness or human darkness.
Please enjoy the following short stories:
I particularly enjoyed “The Emperor’s Soul.”
Over the past two and a half months I’ve written about 25′ish autobiographical short stories. There are about 5-10 of them in there that I won’t publish and I’m going to write some more before I publish the good and funny ones because they lack context. There are also about 5-10 I just don’t think are that good or funny.
Editing! What a concept, right?
For fictional short stories, I’m still chugging along. I’ve made concrete progress on several of them but I’ve been project-hopping. Strangely, I think I’m being more productive than in the past because I don’t limit my attention. If I get bored with something, I just put it aside. I’ll need to get more focused and do that less often but for now it’s working and I’m cutting myself a break. I did have a psychotic breakdown, so there’s no reason I should be expecting myself to operate at peak human efficiency after two months.
Next month I’ll make sure to finish some of the fiction shorts.
I have a pretty good idea in my head about when I”ll start publishing stuff and how I”ll do it. I’m holding off on getting too specific because I don’t want to feel like crap if I fall short of it again. For now, all I’m going to say is that once I start it should be pretty regular because I already have something of a buffer.
It feels pretty liberating to write something without thought of immediately publishing it. I’m probably more prolific now than I’ve ever been. Hopefully I’m as good as I’ve ever been but you’ll have to be the judge of that.
Also, if you ever gave me money and I told you that you would get free stuff, you will still get free stuff. I have a file I kept with all of your names and information.
There is still no progress on this front.
I have decided not to pretend I can’t calculate large’ish numbers in my head.*
It has to do with stuff I’ve talked about in therapy about how I shouldn’t feel ashamed of being able to do things. Or ashamed of how self-serving it sounds to say that I am ashamed of being able to do things. Or ashamed of how indulgent it sounds to say that I am going to therapy to reach the previous two conclusions.
If you want to know what 87% of something is, all you have to do is move the decimal place over one digit to the left, subtract that from the total and then move the decimal two places over to the left, triple it, and then subtract that number from the total.
That is not hard.
You are just lazy.
*Any two or three numbers not exceeding six digits. I’m not a savant but I’m probably better at this than you are, unless you are the frequent commenter TechSupport
CATS!?!?! WITH FACES?!?!?!!
What’s that? You don’t give a flying fuck about anything that is going on in my personal inner-life as I struggle to find out who I am? You wish I would just publish amusing stories as I am required to do per the obligations of my desired cultural role and stop endlessly circle-jerking you, the reader, with endless call-backs and self-references?
Here are some cats.
This is Violet. She is staring at me wondering why I have put her on top of a bookshelf in order to take a picture of her.
While Violet did not particularly enjoy being on top of the bookshelf, she very much did not appreciate it when I tried to make her share the spotlight with Meowarlathotep. In my defense, they usually cuddle when brought into proximity.
I was not harmed when I put down the iPad to put both of them back on the ground. Yes, you were concerned about me. Right?!?!
You weren’t thinking about the cats, right!??!!