For those of you who're just tuning in, I've been filling my spare bedroom with balloons over the past three days. Balloons!
BALLOONS.
My pal Dub is in that picture. See him?
Me neither. As I write this, Dub and R are in there sleeping, and I have no idea where in the room they are. One's near the closet, I think, and the other one might be in the corner where all my bedding's buried beneath the latex.
To give you an idea of the depth, well, I've got a long torso and if I sit on the floor with my back straight against the wall, I'm buried to my neck. It's like a giant, dry, colorful bubble bath. I can't wait until it's filled to the ceiling!
Go buy some balloons. Blow 'em up, quick. Pick a small room, and fill that sucker.
I promise you a good time.
BALLOONS.
My pal Dub is in that picture. See him?
Me neither. As I write this, Dub and R are in there sleeping, and I have no idea where in the room they are. One's near the closet, I think, and the other one might be in the corner where all my bedding's buried beneath the latex.
To give you an idea of the depth, well, I've got a long torso and if I sit on the floor with my back straight against the wall, I'm buried to my neck. It's like a giant, dry, colorful bubble bath. I can't wait until it's filled to the ceiling!
Go buy some balloons. Blow 'em up, quick. Pick a small room, and fill that sucker.
I promise you a good time.
Progress!
I'm starting to feel slightly weird for doing this, but it's great fun and I can't wait until it's done.
Maybe Frank, once he starts feeling better, will find this cheering. It should be complete by then.
I'm starting to feel slightly weird for doing this, but it's great fun and I can't wait until it's done.
Maybe Frank, once he starts feeling better, will find this cheering. It should be complete by then.
Valentine's Day began at 12:00 a.m. I was awake, having just realized what I could do to fill up my spare bedroom.
Well, before you fill a room, you gotta empty it out.
I was moving boxes into the living room when I clearly heard loud voices from the next apartment over. Damned if there weren't some hippies on the fire escape next door, smoking maybe two feet from my window. Their names were Frank and Kate.
Kate shyly asked if her and Frank could see my place, and I said sure.
"You're young," Kate blurted at one point, "And...attractive. And, uh" her eyes narrowed. "Single?"
I nodded.
"No oral herpes, right?" Frank asked.
I politely declined what I'm guessing was a Valentine's Day oral sex party (this Saturday), but did go with Frank and Kate to see their apartment across the street. Not a bad place! For lack of anything else to do, I helped them paint their kitchen last night.
Then, bored tonight, I rang the buzzer and waited, but the upstairs window opened instead of the door.
"Hey man." Frank sniffed. "I'm...having some problems. My friend's dead."
Jeezum Christ. Jesus Crow.
"I'm sorry," I said.
I ran back home to let him grieve in peace, and at about two this morning I went to the mail slot of their apartment and poked in some candy, a brief letter of condolence, a hacky sack, and a CD of Thomas Lynch's Bodies in Motion and at Rest,
Now, with my living room piled high with shit I don't need or want anymore, I sit and slowly blow up balloon after balloon.
I estimate that it will take 500-1000 balloons to fill my spare bedroom to the ceiling.
How weird can 72 hours be?
Oy, I'm going to sleep in the balloon room tonight. Sweet dreams, folks.
P.S. Don't tell Dinah that I have a big fat geeky crush on her. She'll be grossed out, dude.
Well, before you fill a room, you gotta empty it out.
I was moving boxes into the living room when I clearly heard loud voices from the next apartment over. Damned if there weren't some hippies on the fire escape next door, smoking maybe two feet from my window. Their names were Frank and Kate.
Kate shyly asked if her and Frank could see my place, and I said sure.
"You're young," Kate blurted at one point, "And...attractive. And, uh" her eyes narrowed. "Single?"
I nodded.
"No oral herpes, right?" Frank asked.
I politely declined what I'm guessing was a Valentine's Day oral sex party (this Saturday), but did go with Frank and Kate to see their apartment across the street. Not a bad place! For lack of anything else to do, I helped them paint their kitchen last night.
Then, bored tonight, I rang the buzzer and waited, but the upstairs window opened instead of the door.
"Hey man." Frank sniffed. "I'm...having some problems. My friend's dead."
Jeezum Christ. Jesus Crow.
"I'm sorry," I said.
I ran back home to let him grieve in peace, and at about two this morning I went to the mail slot of their apartment and poked in some candy, a brief letter of condolence, a hacky sack, and a CD of Thomas Lynch's Bodies in Motion and at Rest,
Now, with my living room piled high with shit I don't need or want anymore, I sit and slowly blow up balloon after balloon.
I estimate that it will take 500-1000 balloons to fill my spare bedroom to the ceiling.
How weird can 72 hours be?
Oy, I'm going to sleep in the balloon room tonight. Sweet dreams, folks.
P.S. Don't tell Dinah that I have a big fat geeky crush on her. She'll be grossed out, dude.
Very, very early this morning, I hammered the last nail into a western horror short storyI won't post it here, especially as a first draft, but there are angels; naked women dancing with rattler snakes in the desert; and a man who's both the preacher and town sheriff. No SuGi-based characters, this time.
It's a story about what extremes people will go to when they think they have divine favor. The theme is unfortunately relevant to current times.
Next I resume a novel-length story about three young men in a spiritual cult. There aren't enough female characters in my work, and since I fear a Tolkein-like absence of either sex, I'll reach around for SG material.
I've been listening to a steady diet of Murder by Death, Munly & the Lee Lewis Harlots, Andrew Bird, and Neutral Milk Hotel, and oh the music is delicious. I've been writing a song myself, a very cheery tune about friends who reunite after a nuclear apocalypse. Nice!
Productivity aside, I still spend too much time clicking around on this thing. Luckily for me I don't own a television, because getting pulled into two black holes at once would be messy.
It's a story about what extremes people will go to when they think they have divine favor. The theme is unfortunately relevant to current times.
Next I resume a novel-length story about three young men in a spiritual cult. There aren't enough female characters in my work, and since I fear a Tolkein-like absence of either sex, I'll reach around for SG material.
I've been listening to a steady diet of Murder by Death, Munly & the Lee Lewis Harlots, Andrew Bird, and Neutral Milk Hotel, and oh the music is delicious. I've been writing a song myself, a very cheery tune about friends who reunite after a nuclear apocalypse. Nice!
Productivity aside, I still spend too much time clicking around on this thing. Luckily for me I don't own a television, because getting pulled into two black holes at once would be messy.
I've generated at least three significant ideas for stories while browsing SuGi. Kick ass!
Creating a believable character entirely from scratch has never worked for me, so cheers to this excellent source of raw materials.
Speaking of muses, check out Munly and the Lee Lewis Harlots if you want to hear some bizarre, evil country music. Believe me, it is not Shania Twain.
Creating a believable character entirely from scratch has never worked for me, so cheers to this excellent source of raw materials.
Speaking of muses, check out Munly and the Lee Lewis Harlots if you want to hear some bizarre, evil country music. Believe me, it is not Shania Twain.
