wado

Maybe it was the ocean, or by extension the notion that there were locales other than a cold and drafty apartment and within them existed the possibility of being in the elsewheres, but I couldn't sleep tonight and I still cannot. If you are asleep and anywhere near New York City, then you are missing a tremendous windstorm. It sounds the way an earthquake should...
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A day of confluence no? A coming together day. Gravity, terminal velocity coming together. Head on collision coming together. Lots of time spent in the appreciation of sorrow, the good sorrow. The good way being sorrow's path to compassion, the movement away from hollow, blissful ignorance. Unearned, undeserved happiness with no connection to anything outside of itself. The sorrow that lets us know what happiness...
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Thisis an extremely cool website, which is actually a scultureblog, and therefore the best thing I have seen since In Bruges.

Said film is of course brilliant, and every bit of time I spend thinking about it makes me humbled as a lowly, worthless writer. Martin McDonagh (said film's writer director) wrote 7 plays in 9 months at the age of 23, and then...
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Man, I am typo-rific in that last post. Holy shit. Someone my stuttering translates itself into typing. Fuckall.

What the fuck is with me and typing. Just deleted everything I wrote. Fuckall.

By 11:30AM I really could have stood 8 neat Manhattens. Did I get them? No. I had to settle for a pair of Dos Equis after work, but at least it was on...
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Doodily, doodily-doodily! Gournal time. Ploying at work, trying to get hired. If all works well, I could be an editor of either e-books or graphic novels by the end of the month. Bill Hicks is my god, but if either of these plans do not work out, I may have to sin and go into marketing for a while, because balls in my ass I...
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The street was mounded by buildings generating heat and power for the nearby university and they remained in a constant fog from the endless release of steam, warm air cooling into visibility as it drifted down to the street. The bearer of 9,999 diseases corrupt porkchop eating brains, the hard ironic kind you drop quarters down the sewer when you want to call the head...
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LSD is good for you.

We've put the tv and the radio on top of each other, but we're still one set too many, one set on one side and the other in the far away space. The trains are going to pull into the station and we aren't going to be waiting there. One of us will not be getting off, the other won't...
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I managed to wander away from my novel long enough to make some of the really excellent italian roast coffee, then settled down on the futon reading The Sandman: Brief Lives when Falling Slowly, the theme from Once, came on the old playlist. It's chilly and cold outside, just the beginnings of fall, and it was the first really peaceful moment I've felt in the...
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Sweet, sweet Rejection! Here is the text of my latest rejection letter:

"Thanks William. I recall now. Your writing is good, but for our purposes it's a little too literary and intelligent.

Thanks again however. I'll put you in our file for authors though, if you don't mind.


Thanks
D_"

There are small and dirty scraps of paper all about. Some of them have writing on them, some of them are pages of formal type which loses its significance hourly through the half-life-like decay of jobs that are no longer worked. If those pages were dollars if would not be so interesting, and I would not be so hungry. There would of course be fewer...
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