Well, dear readers, the days all blur together like a watercolor painting in the rain. That was quite poetic, wasn’t it? By the way, not only was there a watercolor painting in the rain but some damn fool left the cake out in the rain and frankly I don’t think that I can take it ‘cause it took so long to bake it and I’ll never have that recipe again. Oh no. And now, MacArthur Park is melting in the dark. Damn, I feel very poetic now, like a gazelle reciting Joyce Kilmer’s immortal Trees. I’m rather like an immortal tree these days. I mostly am in one place and occasionally, like a tree, I leave. I did not leave yesterday at all. I sat here like so much fish the whole damn day and night. I’m so tempted to just get in the motor car and go get something to nibble on, but I shan’t, I really shan’t. It’s just too late, baby, it’s too late. I seem to have taken a deep dive off the deep end in an abyss in the middle of a black hole. I did get a bit over eight hours of sleep yesterday. I did answer some e-mails yesterday. I spent a lot of time futzing and finessing. I felt like I needed to cut down some of what I’d written, but I only ended up taking out a page or so, but I did revise quite a few things. Then I ordered lunch – I’ve cooked mostly every day for the past five days and needed a change of pace. I ordered from Panda Express – chop suey, white rice, orange chicken, and honey sesame chicken. It was good but it’s really not Chinese food like you’d get in a great Chinese jernt. After that, I was feeling logy. I wrote about three new pages, then sat on my couch like so much fish, but I ended up getting in bed and taking a two-hour nap. That was interesting. I wrote a few more new pages, then sat on my couch like so much fish again and actually watched a movie entitled Suspect Zero, starring Ben Kingley, Aaron Eckhardt, and Carrie Ann Moss. It’s a serial killer movie that is so pretentiously directed, so obtuse, that you never really know what’s going on or who is who or what is what. It also reeks of post-production “fixing” but nothing could have helped this tripe. Why would you hire a director who came out of forty seat experimental theater, who’d only made two films, and who hadn’t made a movie in fourteen years. And hasn’t made one since. This thing was the huge bomb it deserved to be. From the Seven-like main titles, to the arty BS that’s on view in every single shot, it’s truly one of the worst movies I’ve ever seen.
After that, I had a few crackers, and wrote more new pages. I think I’ve done fourteen and may do a couple more before bedtime. We shall see.
Today, I’ll be up when I’m up, I’ll do whatever needs doing, I’ll futz and finesse, I’ll write new pages, I’ll see if there’s anything at the mail place and if there is I’ll mosey on over there and get it, I’ll either get something to cook or I’ll bring something home for food, then I’ll write more pages, then I can watch, listen, and relax.
The rest of the week, as you might have figured out, is more of the same. I suppose, depending on how the writing goes, I might finish the book by Sunday or Monday. Not quite sure yet
Well, dear readers, I must take the day, I must do the things I do, I must, for example, be up when I’m up, do whatever needs doing, futz and finesse, write new pages, see if there’s anything at the mail place, deal with food, eat food, write more new pages, and then watch, listen, and relax. Today’s topic of discussion: It’s Ask BK Day, the day in which you get to ask me or any dear reader any old question you like and we get to give any old answer we like. So, let’s have loads of lovely questions and loads of lovely answers and loads of lovely postings, shall we, whilst I hit the road to dreamland, as I ponder who the HELL left the cake out in the rain.