Ever since last week’s furious pace (pun intended), I thought I was done being cranky. Sadly, such is not the case. Yesterday, the dying light bulbs in the Lab where I work were replaced with brighter, flickering new ones. Rapid, strobe-like flickering. I have a headache. A faint, nagging headache right between my eyes. Its almost as if mini-mice are in my cranium gnawing at my brain. Zombie mice?
Someone is going to get epsilepsy. I hope its me, so I can sue and live off disability, workers comp, and civil damages.
On Saturday, I had a date. We met, cooked some dinner, played some scrabble and some literary tomfoolery, and generally just talked. I had a good time, but it was ultimately decided that we weren’t a good match (he’s too hearing; I’m too deaf).
On the writing front, progress is glacial. “Starlight and Brimstone” just isn’t captivating me right now. I am not ready to give up on it: I know it has the potential to be something good. I just need one final idea–the idea that will be the tinder to set the fire of my inspiration alight. The wood (idea, structure, and plot) is ready, and the match (desire) is struck, but without that final idea to act as the tinder–I got nothing. So, glacial proceedings proceed ever glacially on.
These lights are killing me. The zombie mice gnaw at my sinuses. I need to go break something.