Monday, November 15

All right, deep breath. Approximately midway through the month of November, I am sitting on about 7 thousand words. This is some literal tens of thousands away from where I should probably be if I were going to hit that 50k.

Defeat is in the air.

I got a trade paperback copy of Leonard Cohen's Beautiful Losers in the mail today. Those quotes have been bumping around in my head for years now, but I've never actually read the book. I did the first eleven pages on the bus home.1

It promises to be exactly the kind of novel I'll one day describe in a series of stoned conversations as "intense".

—You lousy fucker, how many times, five or six?
—Ah, grief makes us precise!

Anyhow, it's past time I was in bed instead of sitting here cranking out this drivel. In the morning we're going to deploy a completely rewritten version of the SparkFun site and hack frantically on everything that subsequently breaks. Once the smoke clears, I plan on noticing that my life's entire focus has become insanely reductive and narrowed, then resuming my existential freakout. This might be worth some amount of prose.

1 Eleven pages isn't much. I may have been a little preoccupied by the presence of one of those really beautiful women who no one who is not a total creep or already her boyfriend ever actually talks to on the bus, though you might briefly entertain the idea that she could get off at your stop and somehow this would occasion a conversation. Between this kind of thing, crazy people, and highschool kids loudly discussing strains of marijuana, I don't get a lot of reading done on the bus.