And by “Ishmael,” I mean “The Aspartame Hoarder.” I don’t feel complete without the steely embrace of an aluminum can. That’s not entirely true. But I need to cut out the bubbly goodness of diet soda so badly.
I’ve cut waaaaaay back and my caffeine addiction is much better as well; but I should switch to being one of those one-cup-of-coffee a day people. They seem to be successful in life. On the other hand, if I ever hope to be a successful writer, I will clearly need an uncontrollable vice to drive me to sob over messy manuscripts. And so, I would gladly chose caffeine over, say, opium or acid.
I wish I could say that the rambling nature of this post was due to being out of practice and/or because I was born a ramblin’ man, but neither of those statements is true. I’m pretty sure I’ve always been this caliber of blogger. DIDN’T YOU GUYZ MISS ME SOOOOO MUCH?!???
Anyway, let’s talk about the weather! It is lovely and gray and drizzly and mmmmmm in Houston today. The only bad part is, it reminds me of fall which makes me despondent. I miss Christmas. I could cry.
Speaking of crying, I almost did this morning because one of my coworkers told me they had heard that Adam Sandler had died. It turned out to be a vicious and malicious hoax, but it was still upsetting for the 4 minutes I chose to believe it.
I have a lot to work on tonight when I get home. I have to prepare pages and summaries and synopses to send to the editor I’ll be meeting with next weekend. (The write-a-thon is next weekend; I got confused.) I am terrified and excited. Precisely as I was yesterday. Good story.
I really need to throw myself back into my novel if I’m to meet my birthday deadline. Ergo, I shall. If you need me, I’ll be slowly pickling my blood via diet soda and straining my heart under excess caffeine consumption. All in the name of writing, my friends. All in the name of writing.*
*Writing does not wish to be associated with my self-destructive habits and cannot be held accountable for my untimely death, should it occur.