Word Explosion

I wanted to update the blog, but I didn’t have anything in particular to add right now, so I’m trying a little experiment. Sitting down at the computer and just typing my stream of consciousness until I hit 500 words. I figure this will be good training for NaNoWriMo when that hits. Can’t run before you walk. Or walk before you run. Gotta walk before they make me run.

I decided to day that “Tumblin’ Dice” is my favorite Stones song. Pretty much everything on Exile on Main St. is gold. Will: bringing you the latest in music news. If it weren’t for the Underground Garage archives and my headphones, I’d be a much less happy person.

Sitcom idea: Convent Convict. Woman gets out of prison for robbing a bank, gets assigned to serve the rest of her sentence by doing community service with a group of nuns. Every week we all learn a little something about ourselves, and about life. Dick van Patten is the sweeps week guest.

What the hell am I doing? I guess this is the equivalent of doodling if I was an artist. I wish I could draw. I check out the monster sketches over at Evan Dorkin’s page and I get jealous. But words are what I was given, and words are what I’ll use.

I really wanted to punch the weenie guy with the stupid haircut and the tie that I saw play last night. Best that I didn’t. I may want to go back to that venue and I don’t think my friends would have enjoyed the inevitable arrest that followed. To say nothing of how much I wouldn’t have enjoyed it.

San Francisco, one night on my own before everyone else gets there. Golden Gate Bridge? Presidio? O’Ferrell Theater? City Lights? Need to get this figured out. Need to get a damn room booked.

Someday, I’m going to sit down and write a thorough explication Paul Simon’s “Call Me Al.” On that day, I will truly be a pretentious jerk-off.

It was almost a year ago that I got mono, which lead to a whole heap of trouble and... That’s all I’m going to say about that. Wait one more thing: fuck you, mono.

When I got stuck in that elevator last week and I started looking around at my surroundings, I noticed there was a video camera in the corner. Two things:
1. Always keep your pants on in the work elevator.

2. There should be a talk show hosted out of an elevator. Desk is situated in the opposite corner, maybe it’s one of those desks you sat in back in elementary school. The band is one guy in the next corner over. There’s an audience of one in the other corner. I need to talk to Matt and Sweeney about this. There’s a short film to be made here.

"That’s not writing, that’s typing.” Someone said that about On the Road once when they found out Kerouac hammered it out over two weeks. There’s writing to be found in typing, though. When I comb back through this mess, I’m guessing I find one or two things I like. Kerouac managed to get more than one or two good things in his typing explosion…

Okay—maybe that’s enough. Even I think this is getting self-indulgent, and this blog exists to showcase my…whatever.

It was nice of you to sit through this, if you made it this far. Actually, you probably were just desperate for something to pull you away from your workday. Still, you’ve earned some kind of reward. Let me go find a cool Youtube video for you.

Got it! I loved this song when I was kid. In retrospect, it suffers from the tiniest, tiniest bit of a case of 80’s production.

Hmmm. Some kind of issue with that video. Just click here.