Looped on my cdplayer.

[clayhornik]

Going down in the same old town down the same street to the same bar
And the same old faces saying hi and I don't care
Going down in the same old bar and I know I don't even order anymore
I am so sick of consequence and the look on your face
I am tired of playing defense
And I don't even have hockey skates
Don't even have hockey skates-
"hockey skates" by Kathleen Edwards.
--
I know Xia's happy. I think I heard the cheer here in Norfolk.
--
I read parts of Coupland's Generation X today. The epilogue was tear inducingly beautiful.
--
I wrote four pages yesterday. It's... not filler. Not supplimental. It's part of the story, but it's divergent from my big plan. Well, that's what road trips are all about, I guess... The destination's still the same, but you got to prepare for the occasional sightseeing detour.
--
Part of The Novel is trying to recreate the feel of a rock group. A specific one, with a very specific style. What does this mean? Right now, it means "buy more cds," dabbit.
--
Another part is trying to recreate an emotion. Or trigger that emotion in the reader. I've been working on some parts that are a little difficult for me, and yesterday's work reminded me of a friend who was heavily infatuated with someone who didn't return the favour. And when she realized it, something cracked in her, and she cried this terrible, animal in a trap agony. And all I could do was watch her, hold her, till it burnt itself out. This was on a park bench in the middle of the night... I felt helpless, I couldn't really help her, you know. And right now, the main character is in that animal in a trap place. Part anger. Part hurt. Not sad. Sad was gone in the first thirty seconds. Now it's nailgun to the shoulder pain. Not the rational kind of emotion. I've worked really, really hard on burying that part of me, so when things go South romatically, I'm just "hurt." As opposed to *HURT*. Because of where I was in my life when I could feel *HURT*, everything was... a little crazy. Now, things are settled, and now I can't even remember how bad *HURT* was, really.
Not sure if it's because of anesthesia or scar tissue.
(Once upon a time, my life had drama. Those days are gone now. Sure, there's crap at work, but it's nothing compared to the Sturm and Drang that used to go on with me and the company I kept. Life then, in retrospect, seemed much more vivid than life today. I'm sure I'm viewing the past through rosecoloured glasses, but it was like EVERYTHING was life or death. I suppose it's like that when you're young, but I didn't have young til about a decade ago. I was pretty boring for a while, then I fell into crazyland, and now I'm back in the boring world... I have NO idea where I'm going with this. Crap. Life then: crazy, Life Now: boring. Boring good, I think. Crazy, interesting but can wear you out. Hmmm, maybe I'm ripping the character out of boring, and throwing him into crazy... sure. Whatever.)
--

Comments

[boyfacedgirl.livejournal.com]

hmm... concentrate on *the animal sound*. come to think of it, don't think i've ever heard a male make *that sound*

maybe you need an hour in the rinse cycle rink. it's like a psychotic air-conditioned dream of world dominination. does wonders for sorting, really.

[francis-clay.livejournal.com]

Guys make it, just deeper. Like a trapped ummm elephant, versus a lynx or a rabbit.
What I need is a "spa" weekend at my parents house or a hotel... bathtub, long luxurious bath, and a real bed.
I did shave really nice last night, and got a haircut today.
I feel pretty.