In For A Day, In For A Month

Well, work has been HIGHLY annoying. Five day straight chunks, boring days--days so boring I can't even inspire myself to write all the prOn I'm behind on because I keep trying to ignore the sound of my eyeballs trying to escape my brain it's so boring. (The sound is a low screech.)

So, instead, in my free time this month (getting increasingly rarer), I'm going to write my novel Jesus Smirked.

No, really.

50,000 words. 30 days. Stay healthy. Get ready.

And now for the sales pitch: you watch me suffer here all the time! Why not suffer WITH me? We're not all trying to make a Shakespeare play or the screenplay for Jay & Silent Bob Strike Back; just trying to hit 50k in 30 days and prove that if only for a little while, if only in a little circle of relative anonymity, we're fucking AUTHORS, baybay.

So what say you?

As some wise students of the human condition put it last year: ooh oooooh ooh are you in?

Currently playing: (I couldn't make this up if I tried) Everclear's "You Make Me Feel Like A Whore"