magni

NaNoWriMo update..

Garbage man stuff... I created a synopsis that I am pleased with. Of course that is easy to do because the balance is still in the imagination. Will I then destroy the imaginability? Anyway my second attempt at an opening attempts to have a hook based on ideas, rather than compelling action. I'm not sure if that is a great idea but it is what I have for now.

I have a decent start on structure and 1400 words. I suppose apart from that I decided to share the process a little. Since I could do a complete fake out and start all over this is just process.



Why did I get stabbed? Thats a very good question. I guess you could be asking me that in a variety of ways. Ive been asking myself that question in every single one of those ways. The problem is I have trouble remembering in detail the moment in time it all happened to me, but Ill give it a try once again. That may be good for me in the long run. So lets do it.

First of all its very traumatic to be stabbed when you are experiencing the early morning coffee deprivation hangover. I mean getting stabbed is, in fact, one of the medical definitions of trauma, along with any number of violent external forces to the body, but what I am referring to is the state of mind at that time. When I am deprived of coffee, I have to wait for a slow moving fog to lift while my mind is still bewildered by the on rush of my consciousness. The day before a similar morning, after a similar hazy start, I undoubtedly had recollected my ultimately mosaic attitude to life, cultivated from years of worry and self taught lessons, and then I had built upon it some fresh and novel nuances, inching me closer to... something whatever that is, and despite all that in the end of it all, I weaken and close my eyes in surrender. The house of cards falls once again. Therefore I awaken as naked as my own body, or more so if I was out drinking heavily the night before, and for that hour or two I have no immune system to keep the inextricable world out of my head. What a hell of a time to have a piece of metal thrusted into your body by a complete stranger. The only thing I can think of that would be more unpleasant would be getting a blade inserted in you in below zero degree weather. I dont know why that is, but I dread getting hurt in the cold.

So I was coming out of my apartment on Sunday morning driven by my need to replenish my coffee supply. I cant survive long without the stuff and I had used my beans up without thinking to replace them sooner. I see a figure approaching me very quickly on the sidewalk and I think hes just in a hurry. Next thing I know it feels like he punched me a really hard with a fist made out of burning iron ore.

Im like, What the fuck was that?, and he takes off running past me. I dont even look to see where.

What the fuck!

And I see the wetness. And I realize its blood. And I realize its my blood. Its my blood oozing out of me. I run those thoughts in a circle a few times, trying to track down some sense. I wonder if Im about to die. And I just hurt like hell. Im not thinking about how I want to die, Im thinking about how I want to live. And I cant imagine walking back up my stairs but I know I must. I want to live. Even if I have to do it one step at a time. It took a fucking long time to get my damn door open.

Let me rest my thoughts for a second and I'll continue.