Sunday, June 29, 2003

Another 1100 words, major choice about Eric's family resolved, very tired, got two hours sleep last night. I am so proud of myself. I can't believe I am doing this, writing this hard stuff and making it work and not going crazy.

Saturday, June 28, 2003

Ha! 1100 more words. BOOM!

Happy graduation pao! Booyah!

Friday, June 27, 2003

One more computer generated poem, I like the bit about Cullen looking like a soap bubble.

No white girls have now, my
faith right
change my heart,
if someone who
knows. I
be perverse. So tired. Georgiana, 7:41
PM Cullen looks like a soap bubble
that in any real regard
for my editor for my
autographed copy of films, a feeling of the
Day1200 words
your own at a dumpster Diving is
very very true, even
know where? are curly. But for months with Danny alive
in two
hundred words
The man and
how can be
absolved me out
as been writing my feelings.

See now, I think this is very true, even though I did write it myself:

Sometimes things are so bad that it takes a whole hell of a lot of people to make one person feel even the tiniest bit better.

I finished the story last night. I cut it to the bone and then I cut some of the bone out. It was so hard to do.

Today I am deleting old email while reading what I have of Carnal Fear. I'm always surprised by the quality of my own writing, which sounds so totally conceited but whatever, it's true.

It's very odd to me that I run around and around in my brain questioning so much and then I read something I wrote and the answers are right there.

I wonder how I know the things I know. Freeing the Madwoman has Dalton unable to face his wife's death. How did I nail him so well? How did I know how death can cut you in two and leave your parts flailing around trying to connect to each other while they really want to reconnect with the dead?

How do my characters know just the right thing to say to each other and they are what I need to hear from someone?

Why aren't I soothed by what I write? Why don't I believe what my characters believe?

And really, why don't I have anyone to go see Counting Crows with me? That's not really so much to ask.

Thursday, June 26, 2003

I'm making myself crazy. I seem to have lost the ability to write in anything but the present tense. I am trying to take this short script and turn it into a short story for a contest. The funny thing is that it started out as a short story but it was written in the future tense (is there such a thing?) for a friend, a prediction of how love would strike him when he least expected it.

Some emails from Dan he wrote when he read the beginning of Carnal Fear. I think it was 9,000 words when he got it. I hit 40,000 last night. Why am I posting these? I don't know. Maybe just so they are here to support me when I feel like I'm cutting off a little piece of my soul with every word I write.


:-) I'm reading Carnal Fear. They just got to the vegetarian place. Have I mentioned that the first few pages impressed me? I can't help but grin the kind of grin that you can't help but grin when you're reading a story that the writer was meant to write.



I'll finish reading it tomorrow. But really, there's a different sound and feel and flow to writing that just really comes from inside you. Do you know what I mean? Like when I'm writing a novel and I lose myself and I realize an hour later that I've written an entire chapter and I have to go back and read it to see what happened. It's what I love about writing. It's writing that grabs you and holds on and controls you.

I see that in this. It's what I strive for, so I recognize it. You *have* to finish writing this.

I'll talk to you on the morrow. :-)


And then the rest would give away way too much plot and such. He sent me more stuff but it's in another account and I'm not sure I can get them because of that evile virus last year.

Wednesday, June 25, 2003

Ooh RealLivePreacher has a really good story with an ending that is all about what I am trying to achieve.

I think that in this lifetime I am meant to learn to let go of everything because it's always being taken away. What the hell am I talking about?

Oh you know viruses that wipe my hard drive, my autographed copy of Neverwhere that Cam dropped in the bath, a place to live that I really like, my transportation, my internet connection even - I am on dial-up right now which is a sort of hell for me and that just went out. Criminy!

And of course the most important person ever was snatched from me in such a horrific and violent way. Supposedly I let him go already. But I still dream about him and I think about him every day.

Right now, in Carnal Fear, I am writing Sutter's relationship with a guy who's based on my Danny. Yes, I have permission from him to use him. That's one thing that makes everything so surreal. I wanted a guy I could kill off (trust me there is a reason) and I couldn't think of one, so when Danny and I hooked up and my googling said that his maximum age limit was 18, I asked if I could base this character on him and he was pleased and flattered..

So I asked if I could kill "him" off and then kabam he was dead a few months later.

God damn life sucks so bad sometimes.

I decided yesterday I am utterly crazy but that's okay, I can go with this insanity and see where it takes me.

I wrote an article for Benn recently that was all about how can I be such a cynic about some things and so full of optimism and how I could possibly believe that we are really good at heart if you look hard enough.

You'd think with all I've been through (and it's a lot, babycakes) I would be sure that it will all turn out horridly. But I don't. I think it will be okay, I'll make my films, I'll finish my novel(s), I'll sell them, I'll keep my Danny alive in my heart, someone will fix my air conditioner (i was getting too deep there)

I wrote to vorpal last summer a whole hell of a lot. One thing I said to him is that everyone says that everything happens for a reason, I just can't see God's plan for me.

I think that I not only cannot see God's plan; if I could I wouldn't be able to understand it or I'd cry out in protest.

I told vorps that if there is a traditional heaven and I somehow end up there, I will start poking God in the chest yelling "What the FUCK were you thinking? What made you think I could survive? Why did you finally give me someone perfect for me and then snatch him away?" And I'll continue in this vein, poking God in the chest, He will be backing up and I will be pressing forward, yelling and I'll make him back right off the cloud.

And it's comments like that which will send me to hell.

On the other hand, I went through this tremendous loss of faith right after Dan died. I was in that ER, waiting for my transfusions, asking everyone who went past how Dan was and none of them would tell me anything after a certain point. It went from he's in x-ray to you need to talk to the trauma surgeons, who never appeared.

I was praying so hard. You know how when you are afraid you promise God anything? Like I used to be this huge shoplifter when I was a kid. Really, I was quite good at it. I once stole a 500 dollar leather jacket. I'm not saying I'm proud of that, I'm saying I had no real moral code until I developed the one I have now, which I will talk about at another time. So anyway, I was in terrible danger when I was about 17 and I asked God to get me out and I'd never shoplift again. And I haven't. I once went a week on one cream cheese sandwich a friend gave me, but I never stole anything again.

So I am praying like mad, God, please, please, please let him be all right, I'll do anything you want. I'll never act again. I'll stop writing. Anything, just let him be okay, please, but I already knew it was all in vain because I felt Danny die and I had my own chance to go with him, I had a fierce argument with someone who wasn't there and I said I had to stay for my kids.

But then I felt my faith totally crumble. It was very much a physical sensation. I was so sad and angry and guilty and so very, very alone because both my rocks were gone. My God rock and my Danny rock. Danny had promised me he'd never leave me and if I tried to leave him he'd hunt me down - he got Cullen to promise to tell him where he went. Don't think that he meant that in any kind of abusive way, he really didn't, he meant it to show me how important I was to him.

I felt like God had made the same promise to me, although not via email or IM's. God had promised to be there when I needed him and he wasn't or he said no to me and I didn't want to hear it.

So here I was, sitting on my bed, screaming and crying and thinking that Danny was just gone forever. That I'd tapped my brakes and somehow he'd died after and he was all gone, like a soap bubble that bursts when it touches something concrete.

Gradually my beliefs returned to me and then I hated God. I went on this rant and I cursed Him. I called Him every bad name I could think of and I can think of a lot.

Then I felt bad the next day. I was worried that I hurt His feelings, which is kind of weird when I think about it because He doesn't seem to have any real regard for my feelings.

So I said I was sorry. In fact I think I apologized on a messageboard, because my rant was electronic, I thought my apology should be also.

Then I went to church and talked to a priest. I said I was worried about Danny because he had very untraditional religious views. But that he was a good person. I said I felt bad about calling God all those names.

The priest said that I shouldn't worry about Dan or God. That just like I never let it hurt me when my kids said they hated me for making them go to bed or whatever, didn't I think that God was at least as capable as I was of understanding the feelings behind my anger and name calling?

We talked for a long time and then he asked me if I wanted to be absolved and I said I didn't think I could be. That the church teaches no sex without marriage and no birth control and I'd certainly broken those rules with Danny and that I think you can't say you're sorry if you'd go right out and do it again. If I had the chance you bet I'd be all over Dan, breaking those rules over and over.

The priest says to me can you say to God, God, I am sorry for anything I have done that offended you? That my intent was never to offend him (not counting my little fit) and I said yes I could, so he absolved me and I went into the church and I lit three candles. One right by the handicapped pew for Dan and one for my mom and one for Torquin Aniais, my baby that died before birth.

I didn't have the right change for paying for the candles so God owes me fifteen cents. I'm just sayin'

I've been moving last few days. Still worked on CF when I could. Last night was hard, the words just weren't there.

I like this quote: Am I not destroying my enemies when I make friends of them? -Abraham Lincoln, 16th US president (1809-1865)

I had a long talk with Chris about forgiveness, something I am supposed to be working on. But I'm not sure I even know what forgiveness is. Is it letting go of the person who did the thing that hurt you or yours? Is it pretending it never happened? What the hell is it? I don't know and I can't do it if I don't know what it is.

Sunday, June 22, 2003

Word Count o the Day

1200 words on Carnal Fear today. I was going to try and do a page of Devil May Care but damn, it's nearly two am so night all.

Saturday, June 21, 2003

Natty Dreads Day VIII

My wanna be dreads are so curly! But Casey saw right away that I am trying to dread my hair so I think that's something anyway. She offered to help me if it doesn't work out with the lady from Zaire.

Today I found out that Dumpster Diving is an actual industry, not just for the poor. (I think this week's column will be about fuck the man and the food chain of material possessions.)

And I met my editor for the Shank which was a bit surreal as I've been writing for him for months with no idea what he or Rachel look like.

He offered to get a friend to tattoo the lightning bolt on Cullen's forehead.

Cullen looks like Harry Potter. I get that all the time. I may have harped on this in the past. Everywhere we go people say it.

We got the keys to the new place today. There's this storage space under the stairs.

So he asks if that can be his room.

I'm like now hold on, you not only look like Harry Potter, you want to sleep under the stairs too?

Then later he says he'd live in a dumpster if it was clean and he could get electricity. He's turning into some odd hybrid of Harry Potter and one of the rats from NIMH.

Computer generated poem of the day - this one's pretty nifty:

No white girls have a phone.
say uhuh, yeah, baby. Georgiana,
7:39 PM I wash it hurt.
Chris says come
back no white girls have
all these windows I opened so I need to
be a mixture of
mayhem and I am
not really falling apart in two
weeks Now I PAY attention,
And she had
such a go. see what I
dread? Did another
1100 words.

Generate your own at

Word Count of the Day

Another 1100 words. What an effort.

I had a dream about Dan this morning. We were talking and I said something about time and he said speaking of time it's time for you to wake up and I did and it was time to get up and get ready for Cam's graduation. More on that later I am so tired.

Natty Dreads Day VII

I washed my hair today. I know I'm not meant to for another week but I really wanted to and I was thinking that when I wash it then it tangles anyway so it couldn't hurt.

Chris wants me to go with him to a job fair at Medeival Times or however they spell it. I don't know what they'll make of my hair. But damn, all those years of Renn Fest, I'm too tired to finish what I was going to say, leave it at they should be so lucky as to hire me.

Thursday, June 19, 2003

Word Count of the Day

Another 1100 words and one heck of a lot of emails today.

I've passed 35,000 words now. I'm in a hard part. The part about Eric and Ryan. I suspect that a whole hell of a lot of tissues will bite the dust before I finish and get back to Sutter and Aaron.

I had a lot of Percival and Jake ideas last night but I can't remember them.

I've got an idea for a very small project based on the counting crows rhyme. To get some practice with animated gifs.

Moving starts tomorrow. Chris was supposed to be back tonight so I could talk to him about graduation tomorrow and all the things I have to do. He should have delivered the dishwasher I'm selling on eBay by now. Gah.

Natty Dreads Day VI

I'm worried that this is not a go. I twist my locs but I can't really get to the ones in the back.

I mentioned that Jah is in charge of whether or not I dread. Did I say that my personality dictates the way I dread? So I must have a curly personality because my dreads are curly. I've never seen anyone look quite like I do. Should be fun for Cam's graduation from elementary school tomorrow. Yeah baby.

Wednesday, June 18, 2003

Word count 'o the day

Ha ha, another 1100 words. The first 728 were great, easy, like writing my column for the Shank. I wrote some stuff for Sutter's blog, that was easy.

The last were hard. I picked up at a point where I stopped a long time ago. A dream sequence that had such a feeling of finality that when I wrote it I looked at it and I thought how am I going to top that? Where will I go next? I started there, at that point that felt like nothing could ever match it and I worked and I worked and I think I achieved something.

Natty Dreads Day V

Is this roman numeral thing annoying anyone? I'm really doing it to be perverse.

So I dunno. Still have all this freaking wax in my hair. Is it starting to dread? Maybe at the ends. Who knows. I cannot wait until I next go see (Louise? is that right?) and she finks around with it some more. I'm going to give this two months. That's my new deal. 60 days. 55 to go. Or should I say LV? HA HA!

So I'm online, just got done talking to my friend Kathy on the phone and it rings again right away. Now I need to write maybe another two hundred words on CF but I also need to close out all these windows I opened so I'm reading an article while this person is on the phone trying to get me to switch to his phone company.

I say uhuh, yeah, I dunno, maybe, I don't pay attention, he keeps talking! I said I DON'T PAY ATTENTION! And he's still yapping away.

Finally I say I'm moving Friday cause he's all it will take two weeks to set me up. He says where are you moving and I say I don't know. He says you're moving Friday but you don't know where? I'm like yup. Don't want to commit to anything, you know what I mean? So he tells me to call him when I know where I'm going. Like that's going to happen.

Sometimes when these guys call up I really fuck with their heads. I repeat the questions back to them like I'm stupid and they give up. Chris says I'm mean. Maybe but these people took these jobs on purpose. Now if someone shows me proof of some telemarketing slave ring out there I may just change my tune but for now, it's my time, and they are invading it. They will pay the price.

I just got this great idea. From now on I'm just going to repeat I don't have a phone. I'll say it all different ways, like a question, then stunned disbelief, then terribly sad. It will be a good exercise of my mad acting skillz! Look out telemarketing world!

Tuesday, June 17, 2003

Word count of the day

Another 1100 words. I wonder how long I can keep this up.

Lots of fun and silliness at the Vine today along with a couple of jerks. But that's life, right? A mixture of the sweet and sour.

Natty Dreads Day IV

Very discouraging. They're really falling apart in the back. If I pay 85 bucks for a do I expect it to last at least until I go back. Tchaw.

I'm dead tired. Off to bed.

My archives keep vanishing. It's quite annoying.

Word count of the day

Ha ha, I rock!

I wrote my column, which is about why Harry Potter annoys me. Then I wrote 1100 words of Carnal Fear.

I also queried Playboy and Newsweek about a possible feature article about the Freddie Mac scandal. A good writing day. Oh yes, I am going to do a review of Til Humans Voices Wake Us once it gets here. It's going to be my audition review for Howard wrote to say that the trades would no doubt like it if greenman does not. He said he'd normally have to say if you write well but since it's me, which made me smile and be all happy about my writing.

Monday, June 16, 2003

I just want to be clear that my son didn't actually see what I was writing but it's still hard to be writing something like "he stroked her hip as if she were a cat until she was relaxed and purring" and then suddenly hear the plot for Courage.

It's very hard to write a sex scene when your eleven year old son keeps wanting to talk about Courage the Cowardly Dog. Just thought I'd let you all know that.

Natty Dreads Day III

Still waxy and curly. Still don't look dready yet. More like magic is holding my hair in separate strands. I hope this works.

The thing is I have wanted dreads for a year but everyone who braids for me says no, white girls can't have dreads. If I try and I can't get them to work at least I'll know and when I'm 97 I won't say damn it, why didn't I get dreads back in the day? Instead I could have had dreads for decades by then.

Jah is the one who makes dreads grow. I guess that if I am not pleasing in Jah's sight, he won't let me dread.

Sunday, June 15, 2003

I just realized that I mentioned my mammogram - btw, you end up looking really interesting if you are taking blood thinners and have a mammogram - and I never said it was negative.

Also my glucose tolerance test was normal so it looks like no diabetes. I may have already said that.

Now off to read The Talisman to the boys.

Word count of the day

1100 words on Carnal Fear. I might have finished the ending.

Formatted Angie and Cody (working title, poor thing has no name)

Worked a little on the plot of Angels. I need to find out when det cord was invented. I'm also starting to think this might not really be a children's book but a book from a child's POV. Sigh.

Working out Day I
Keeping in mind that it will take ages to get over my menigitis, I think I did pretty damn well today.

I danced around to Hangin' Around and Mrs. Potter. Then I did 50 fake pushups, you know, against the wall cause I can't even do a girly pushup. Then sixty crunches. Leg lifts. Those butt things Jane Fonda did. Then because you need to work that agonist muscles, to counteract the crunches I did the cat back hunches, sixty of those. Then for the biceps I did the weight (2lbs, woohoo!) over my shoulder, straightening my arms and lowering them until they touched my shoulder. I did thirty of these. Then I did ten curls just for the hell of it.

So that's that.

Natty Dreads Day II

My locs are curling up. They still aren't dry. I have never seen curly dreads before. They really aren't twisted anymore. This is all very interesting if I look at it in a clinical way.

It's hard to write a romance when you were just looking at notes your dead boyfriend wrote to you about the story. Sigh.

Ha ha - Cammie (11) is eating cream of mushroom soup and he says "they just don't make condensed soup like they used to." Oh those years of experience....

Word count of the day

I did another 1100 words of Carnal Fear. I just hit 30,000. I am proud but oh so very sleepy.

Saturday, June 14, 2003

Natty Dreads Day 1

I went out dreaded my hair today. Then I drove around to five stores looking for locking spray. The stuff I got smells good and it's supposed to be made by actual Rastas, but is it really locking spray? I am not convinced.

Right now my hair is gooey. The beeswax has not dried yet. I think I'm going to be in love with my locs, if I can get them to work. I need to go back in two weeks and damn I forgot her name, will work on them some more. She says come back every two weeks. Now I have not heard that before. I've heard of getting them done once and then they are your responsibility. I'm going to keep an eye on things and see how they work.

She had a lot of business and everyone who came in seemed to adore her so I think that she's not scamming me, as someone suggested.

Day 1 - locs installed. Told to keep them dry for two weeks. Got stuck in a HUGE downpour. Covered head with fed ex envelope I had in my backpack.

I have two baby locs, really they are twists at this stage, hanging down in the front, over my right eye. They are so cute!

Friday, June 13, 2003

I'm writing my ending to Carnal Fear. Of course I still need the middle but I might as well write the ending since I know what I want. Or perhaps it's not the exact ending, but it's near the ending.

I'm doing something I've never done before. I'm emailing a friend as I write. She says I almost made her tear up and she doesn't even know the plot. I think that's a good sign.

I've done four pages so far. That's not bad given my limitations right now.

Did I post that I wrote to Neil Gaiman about his meningitis and my memory loss? I wanted to know if he's been experiencing the same things I have and he has. He posted about it in his journal - I hope that link works, you have to scroll down a bit to find my letter and his really nice and informative answer.

I was just thinking that it was amazingly kind of him to post the details of his illness and recovery to help me keep on hanging in there. *happy sigh*

Thursday, June 12, 2003

I was just reading this prayer and I am "borrowing" this part of it.

But I say to you that hear, love your enemies,
do good to those who hate you,
bless those who curse you
pray for those who abuse you.
To those that strike you on the cheek,
offer the other one also,
and from those who take away your cloak,
do not withhold your coat as well.
Give to everyone who begs from you,
and of those who take away your goods,
do not ask for them again.
And as you wish that others would do to you,
do so to them.

There's a lot there that I need to learn and do.

I've tried praying for those abuse me. Spencer told me that sometimes you have to start with God Bless this sick sorry son of a bitch. So I started with that prayer. Later I advanced to Please let ____ become the parent that _____ deserves and then I got stuck. I couldn't really think of anything else to say when I prayed for them.

Now mind you, I had a lot of trouble with God when I first started praying for those who abuse me and mine. I was very angry with him/her/it and I said to vorpal if the traditional Christian view is right and I make it to heaven I'm going to be standing on a cloud poking God in the chest and demanding to know just what the hell he was thinking when he took my Danny away from me. I'd poke him so much he'd fall of his cloud.

Then there is the part about the cloak. I will say freely that I have had trouble letting go of my resentment to that person who has my black leather jacket my sister gave me. And other things of mine. So that part about the cloak, that speaks to my angry heart.

I don't think it's good for my heart to be angry. I want to let it all go and let me heart be at peace and have a place of stillness I can enter when I need to.

I'm not usually going to talk about God in this blog, partly because I have very odd views of life, the universe and everything (thanks Mr. Adams) and I don't want to foist them off on others.

But I think that saying that prayer might be good for me in many ways. I think that growing up poor and moving so much made me cling to things while at the same time "things" as in material possessions aren't terribly important to me. I should be able to let go of what was taken from me and look to my bright and glorious future.

I also decided that I'm going to start posting how much I wrote in a day.

Wednesday, June 11, 2003

I took the fucktard test! Yay!!!

25% Fucktarded.You are pretty normal although you
do have your moments. Mainly you're just a
smartass and you have horrible luck. Hey, we're
all allowed to be a Fucktard sometimes!

How much of a FUCKTARD are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

I'm very very sleepy so any mistakes in that last post can be contributed to my inability to keep my eyes open.

So I lied in my last post. I'm not going to send in my any of my kids books. I'm going to finish Carnal Fear and send it in.

I decided how I will resolve the basic conflict the other night when I was trying to fall asleep.

I'm trying to decide if I should enter the zoetrope contest. Sixty dollars is a lot. I don't even know if I could enter Drunk Terry Flunk and Freeing the Madwoman. I didn't see anything about it in the rules.

I wrote my column on cat graft last night. Not exactly what I usually write about.

I had my glucose tolerance test today. I've had so many blood tests that the phlebotomist said she was quitting and that the veins in my hands will never be good for drawing blood again. So damn, what now? One day they will go for my jugular.

Saturday, June 07, 2003

I got some excellent advice from Will. Really my respect for him is growing to the point that soon I will have to say he's my idol instead of a role model. Then he'll probably get embarassed and say oh shucks.

I'm going to punch up The Soft Fluffly Bear and send it to this agent. I wish I had a better name. pao says it's good because it's child friendly. But I want something that will make a parent want to take it off the shelf and look at it. Like auditioning I can't ask anymore than that they look it. From then on it's up to them. They are looking for something in particular and if my work isn't what they want then that's no reflection on me.

Just like if I audition and I give a great audition and don't get the part it's because I didn't have the look or sound or interpretation they wanted.

Friday, June 06, 2003

My ultimate plan of being a working writer/actor has me thinking. Do you have to kind of tone down things if you're having a pisser of a day?

Let's say you're famous enough that someone actually reads your blog. Someone besides your friends and your fans from your other writing sites. And you have a huge fight with your wife. You can't exactly say that rotten cold bitch wouldn't let me get a word in edgewise!

Of course you probably wouldn't want to say that anyway because you'd just regret it later when you go back to remembering that's she's not really a rotten cold bitch you're just upset because some lesser talent got a part you want.

So I'm thinking that posting about your politics and religious views is good because it is part of who you are and how you think. But probably not petty squabbles.

So let's talk about writing for a bit. I tracked down an agent I really have a lot of respect for and she said to send her my best work. Which is good, exciting, terrifying, all of that but my best work is Carnal Fear and it's not finished. She says finish it and send it in.

Now I am afraid I'll rush my book. Finish it and miss out on all that I have been adding to it that's coming out of my own life. All the beauty and pain that I have every day somehow makes its way into CF. I was going to put the musings about hope in.

I wrote to Will Shetterly for advice. He and Emma Bull gave me great advice about diabetes (glucose tolerance test number two tomorrow) so maybe he can help with how to talk to an agent. Chris says be myself. I told him it's like having a date with someone you've had a crush on for a year. Panic and change clothes 20 times. He says I'm past that stage, I've already got the date. So I say I guess now we're at the picking out the wine stage.

I'd like to send her Drunk Terry Flunk but she didn't say anything about sending in a script.

I'm off to read my novel and Tao te Ching. Possibly even Zen and the Art of Motorcycle ??? Repair? Maintenance? It's sitting five feet from me but with all of Chris' stuff in my living room navigating is a little tuff.

Oh I had a mammogram today. I love the way they say pressure when they mean we're going to make you wish you were a boy. We're going to put your breasts into a vise and crank it down until you can't breathe. Then they say hold your breath, like I have a choice. Too busy freezing in pain to breathe. That's what I get for having a hematologist/oncologist. Go in for a bloodclot exam, come out with an order for a mammogram. Wooohooooooo!

Thursday, June 05, 2003

It's funny because I don't think I'm actually violent. I just think violent thoughts, esp. when I'm writing. Most of my writing has been horror lately. Well hopefully my Danny boy is also in the seventh level or they'll let him visit or something.

I seem to be very bad indeed. :-(

The Dante's Inferno Test has banished you to the Seventh Level of Hell!
Here is how you matched up against all the levels:
Purgatory (Repenting Believers)Low
Level 1 - Limbo (Virtuous Non-Believers)Very Low
Level 2 (Lustful)Very High
Level 3 (Gluttonous)High
Level 4 (Prodigal and Avaricious)Low
Level 5 (Wrathful and Gloomy)Very High
Level 6 - The City of Dis (Heretics)Very Low
Level 7 (Violent)Very High
Level 8- the Malebolge (Fraudulent, Malicious, Panderers)High
Level 9 - Cocytus (Treacherous)Moderate

Take the Dante's Inferno Hell Test

Tuesday, June 03, 2003

I'm getting ready to move. Official date is June 13th. It's a struggle. No money, no energy, no motivation.

I'm still a wreck from the meningitis. I walk two blocks and I'm panting. This time last year I was training for the AIDS marathon and walking a lot. Now I'm a joke.

I'm not writing like I should be. My head teams with ideas and they go off and find someone who'll care for them. Much like cats I suppose.

The one thing I'm doing consistently is writing my weekly column. I just submitted it a few minutes ago. I usually write about writing. Not always but usually. This one is more about friendship and hope I think. Maybe a tiny bit about writing. But mostly about the conflict of being human, friendship and hope.

Chris says hope is as hollow as fear. He'd rather live without fear and without hope. I'm not sure I understand him. I'm not sure I could live without hope. I think of hope in the Pandora's Box sense. She fluttered out after all the nasty things and she was in that box for a reason. Should I turn her away and say she is hollow? Or should I open wide my windows and tell her she is always welcome?

If I let her in then is she my responsibility? Do I need to feed her like a hummingbird? Adam says hummingbirds don't sing but I bet hope sings. I bet she sings all sorts of things. The blues, perky songs, torch songs, that tiny bit of music that makes you turn your head and say oh what is that? I must hear more!

What would she eat? I can't see her living on sugar or sunflower seeds, although the sun part seems to be appropriate.

Oh my I just settled a major, major plot point for my novel Carnal Fear. Sometimes when I'm not writing things are fermenting busily away and then kaboom the twist, idea, line, mood, whatever you needed just appears. Much like hope when you need her most.

A blog for Sutter and a response from Shane. There I have it down and nobody can take it from me. I feel so lightheaded now with relief. Off to bed.

Sunday, June 01, 2003

June 1st. My mother's birthday. She's dead now but you never know so happy birthday Mops. Hope things are better for you where ever you are.

This memory loss is going to drive me mad. I had all this great dialogue including some that just begged for "don't call me white" in the background and it's all gone. DAD BLAST IT!