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how things goeth:
So I got home on Friday morning with that ridic blob of inspiration in my head, slept for seven hours, woke up and wrote 1500 words of something else entirely. FML, only not; I needed more time to go over it and decide whether it was worth all the crappy physics involved, and I'm working it in now. It's going in a scene that's set in a moment of my irl several years ago that was one of many times I spontaneously texted lyrics from Mortal City to Jay for no particular reason. Or, wait, it might be a combination of two such times. The location and mood from one and the weather from the other. [eta: fucking fuck why is there MGS in this part now? ridic brain alchemy is ridic]
(Now I'm listening to Dar as if I'm still expecting her to hold the world together like she did in 2008. Not the world any more - maybe just my head.)
Ting and me were talking about this last night; living is all grist, and that may or may not mean that we're both massive creepers idk. What are we meant to do? Promise to distort everything we use as much as possible?
(fyi: I am not big or clever enough to write longthings, and I write slow as fuck, so 1500 = extremely good day for me. Even 500 is more than enough to make me go to bed happy. It's the way I am, I am long since resigned to never being able to make any money off my crazy anyway so I may as well have fun doing it.)
irl; I need a new job more than usual, not because job is unpleasant lately (it isn't) but because my hours keep getting cut due to a massive influx of moran so now attempting to save anything is a giant joke. This is #1 reason why I need to stop writing and stop trying to write.
(Now I'm listening to Dar as if I'm still expecting her to hold the world together like she did in 2008. Not the world any more - maybe just my head.)
Ting and me were talking about this last night; living is all grist, and that may or may not mean that we're both massive creepers idk. What are we meant to do? Promise to distort everything we use as much as possible?
(fyi: I am not big or clever enough to write longthings, and I write slow as fuck, so 1500 = extremely good day for me. Even 500 is more than enough to make me go to bed happy. It's the way I am, I am long since resigned to never being able to make any money off my crazy anyway so I may as well have fun doing it.)
irl; I need a new job more than usual, not because job is unpleasant lately (it isn't) but because my hours keep getting cut due to a massive influx of moran so now attempting to save anything is a giant joke. This is #1 reason why I need to stop writing and stop trying to write.