Midseason Report

I spend a lot on all the clothes that I got 'cause all the geeks that I meet, they all look cooler than me

Some of the more anal of you will note it's July 2nd but that won't begin for me until I go to bed in a couple hours and wake up around 10:45ish.

I did get some work done on the novel. Not as much as I wanted (in my more delusional moments I thought I'd be done) but I got pre-production out of the way and a lot of pages too. However, it's going to be stalled for a while. I put everything on hold socially so I could work on the novel and I get the feeling it's good but the shit has yet to really hit the fan. Updates to come, whenever I can get back into the right frame of mind to write a corporation-driven near-post-apocalyptic world controlled by Christ again. I think it may require cerveza.

I'm really grateful for the new job, however much it aggravtes me, because it's money coming in. Plus, a couple years of unemployment's made me self-sufficent and cheap: one cool b-ball jersey, a DVD, and then bank the rest to transfer at the alpha of next year. Sure, some of the people I've met I've wanted to kill, but no one I tightly work with, and that's a plus.

Getting ready for the mad season: seven of the next eight days working, the lone miss being the NINTH(?--gotta look into it with someone who'd know) annual bonfire before the Vegas wedding and three days during which I plan to implement the initiatives that will one day lead me to the Presidency of the United States: getting paid (blackjack) and getting laid (self-explanatory). Anyway, by the time all that's bounced off the fan the month'll be half up and some poor attractive girl will be pregnant by a man she only knows as Butch R. Fong.

You know, you have the worst year of your life a few years in a row and while you're pretty sure the law of averages says the next year can't possibly be this horrible--said law, of course, has been kicking your ass so far out in so many different ways it looks like an asterisk. And then, you have a year and it's not horrible. Sure, it'd be nice if I had somebody, but whaddya gonna do. I die alone, I take the S.W.A.T. team with me; I mean, I die alone and I die alone. That's all.

And on that note, good night and have a pleasant tomorrow. The second half of 2003 come a-callin'.

Knock knock knockin' on heaven's door, hey, hey, hey hey yeah