I've pretty well wasted another day.

I'm not quite cleaned up, and I've definitely written nothing. I had wanted to work on the unfinished picture tonight, having gotten an $80 phone bill on the mail.

$3.50 in actual long distance charges. $11.60 for monthly rate. And around $65 for flipping a fucking switch. Jesus. They really have us by the balls, don't they? Every way you turn.

:)

That's a smile, by the way. An “online” smile.

I think I'll try to make a final, noticeable dent in the conflagration in the floors and settle into bed. I've been reading The Stand by Stephen King, and won't try writing any on the novel until I've finished. I'd emulate King if I did, and I don't want to do that. Have to have my own voice, whatever it may turn out to be.

:: sigh ::

I'm tired. More than I have a right to be.

I'm not looking forward to work tomorrow, but I'm not necessarily dreading it. I just wish I had gotten more done here today. I started out well enough, but got sidetracked somehow, listening to some music, then making the mistake of “gonna read one chapter and then get back to work.”

Motherfucker. Should have known better than that. I've read almost 700 pages in three or four days. Might be longer than that. I really can't remember. But I've read a lot all the same. Oh, well.

I had started this entry to say something about all the art ambitions I have simmering. Something about the catalogs, and all the babes I have waiting in them, from whom I'll draw some form of inspiration one of these days. But I seem to have other things on my mind. Don't I? ;)