Low Red Moon journal

        Tuesday, February 04, 2003

        Blah, blah, frelling bloody blah. No, really. I mean it. What else should one say at 11:14 a.m. on Tuesday, hung over, annoyed, quarrelsome. I'm sure there's something I should write about in the blog today, but frell me if I can remember what it is. The perpetual drama and drudgery of the writer's life. I could just quote Dorothy Parker, or William Faulkner, or James Dickey, and be done with it. They all said it better than I ever will. I think the boredom's the worst of it. No one ever warns you about the boredom. But there it is, like oatmeal for breakfast, lunch and dinner, every single day. Overcooked, unflavored oatmeal; instant with water, instead of milk. Wait. Can you overcook instant oatmeal? I shall have to research that. It might show up in a story someday. "Hey!" he shouted at the frowsy waiter. "This instant oatmeal is overcooked!" "No," the waiter replied calmly. "It's merely underwatered." Bored, bored, bored. I know. I shall amuse you, amaze you, dazzle you all, by describing all the items currently on my desk:

        1. A stack of five CDs (VNV Nation's Futureperfect, Delerium's Poem, 12 Tales, Mors Syphilitica's Primrose, and VNV Nation's PTF 2012).

        2. My desk lamp, which is a pretty little thing, Victorian, cloth shade with a beaded fringe and brass base.

        3. A tin of spearmint Altoids.

        4. A heart-shaped tin of peppermint Altoids.

        5. A tin of Altoid tangerine sours.

        6. A stapler I stole from UAB when I was director of the Film Series.

        7. A letter from Peter Straub.

        8. A bottle of Mari Mayans absinthe, which is nearly empty, as I have been using it to dull the boredom; soon, I shall need a new bottle.

        9. A very tiny blue lizard with black and red spots and a yellow belly.

        10. A bent paper clip.

        11. A clear plastic paperweight with a yellow scorpion inside.

        12. A weird plastic spider thingy.

        13. My Morticia Addams action figure (and Thing), which is holding up

        14. An old nude photo of Kathryn when she was only a babe of 22.

        15. My iBook.

        16. My headphones.

        17. My DSL modem.

        18. The folder with a printout of the story I am currently avoiding finishing.

        19. 8 books and I'm too bored to list the titles. You'll live.

        20. My Yale-Peabody Museum coffee mug, with art by Rudoplh Zallinger (The Age of Reptiles), which holds all my pens, pencils, highlighters, a letter opener, and old cigar (circa 1996) from somewhere.

        21. A very nice green glass box which holds my business cards, unbent paper clips, and stamps. It is docorated with a painting of Peruvian mummies and was a gift.

        22. My Emily Strange mousepad ("Emily doesn't aim high. She aims low.").

        23. My snazzy clear Apple mouse.

        Wow. I think that's it. And I'm still frelling bored. But now, I bet you're bored, too. Which is an improvement.

        I suppose I should go work.


        11:38 AM


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