return of the random enumerations
As I write this marvel of marvels, Trisha the Insect Slayer has just stepped into the shower, having slept in this Saturday morning--it's around 10:00 AM, & I think maybe the reason she slept so long was because she might've taken an extra Zyprexa; she wasn't certain if she'd taken it or not & made sure she took it. I think her new diagnosis--bipolar--fits her better than unipolar, but I'm not certain Zyprexa is the best way to treat it; it makes you fat--I had to quit taking it when I developed Type II diabetes, in spite of which the stupid soup kitchen still gives me desserts--we go there days Perky Pam's Place is closed.
Trish does seem to have really improved since she left the Invisible Hospital; incarcerated there for loco brains last week. Even though she's working less hours (at McRonald's), she's been less concerned with money, cf, she decided on her own to wait 3 paychecks before buying Season 6 of the Buffster kicking the butts of bad-ass vampires; & why didn't they ever kill off Spike? I mean, what a worthless character.
Blanket-man & his wife (the non-Relationships Karen) remain an albatross for us. She's not a Vadisystem--not athletic enough, even if she's tall--but her paranoia, & the way it's fed into Dave's, keeps Trish & I from going over there very much. I'm tired of hearing how green tea is Windex & all this bullshit about herbal supplements; the only good herb is dem God-made herb (atomic reactor fuel; real atomic).
And so (it goes) Trish only has one day of work left. Tonight, with no Carmen, she'll be walking out in the rain, Montana thunderstorms, the mile to McRonald's, to sweep & mop the floor & work in the lobby. Since her hours have been cut to 3 a day, 5 daze a week--because of the stress that led to her nervous breakdown--she'll be home at 8:30, approximately, perhaps bearing a Bozo Burger.
We're going to spend the rest of the day relaxing, something I used to be good at in Nite City, when I was sailing the darkened seas every day; but I want to use some of the time to work on my Invisible Hog--I'm writing this cosmicomic about a cyborg motorcycle.
"Trinities" is still undergoing a re-make/re-model, the story of Rachel, a Ladytron among the stars. Ted Grosch & I began it in December, before my 2nd to the last eye surgery, God & I've had 10 of them & the only thing beyond God is Sisyphus. Since Stan Schmidt bounced it with a friendly note, & he looks at my re-makes/re-models (the Ladytron originated as Eve), I'll be resubmitting it, once we have a final draft. We're both in Critters Workshop--that's how we met--but decided not to have it Critter'd at the time, as I was afraid that the eye surgery would leave me near-blind while recuperating (I am blind in the other eye), & it took Stan 3 months to make up his mind, otherwise we would've gone thru & Critter'd it a long time ago. Mostly, at this stage, the religious ideas of the characters need to be fleshed out--after all, it is about religion. Some stupid junior high school student who's flunking science sent in a really nasty review, saying it wouldn't sell because it's about "religeon"; apparently, she's flunking English, too. A couple of the other comments made me mad, but I've learned that there's no point in arguing with Critters; it just alienates a potential audience & could possibly get you kicked off the group, if you're rude enough back.
Trish does seem to have really improved since she left the Invisible Hospital; incarcerated there for loco brains last week. Even though she's working less hours (at McRonald's), she's been less concerned with money, cf, she decided on her own to wait 3 paychecks before buying Season 6 of the Buffster kicking the butts of bad-ass vampires; & why didn't they ever kill off Spike? I mean, what a worthless character.
Blanket-man & his wife (the non-Relationships Karen) remain an albatross for us. She's not a Vadisystem--not athletic enough, even if she's tall--but her paranoia, & the way it's fed into Dave's, keeps Trish & I from going over there very much. I'm tired of hearing how green tea is Windex & all this bullshit about herbal supplements; the only good herb is dem God-made herb (atomic reactor fuel; real atomic).
And so (it goes) Trish only has one day of work left. Tonight, with no Carmen, she'll be walking out in the rain, Montana thunderstorms, the mile to McRonald's, to sweep & mop the floor & work in the lobby. Since her hours have been cut to 3 a day, 5 daze a week--because of the stress that led to her nervous breakdown--she'll be home at 8:30, approximately, perhaps bearing a Bozo Burger.
We're going to spend the rest of the day relaxing, something I used to be good at in Nite City, when I was sailing the darkened seas every day; but I want to use some of the time to work on my Invisible Hog--I'm writing this cosmicomic about a cyborg motorcycle.
"Trinities" is still undergoing a re-make/re-model, the story of Rachel, a Ladytron among the stars. Ted Grosch & I began it in December, before my 2nd to the last eye surgery, God & I've had 10 of them & the only thing beyond God is Sisyphus. Since Stan Schmidt bounced it with a friendly note, & he looks at my re-makes/re-models (the Ladytron originated as Eve), I'll be resubmitting it, once we have a final draft. We're both in Critters Workshop--that's how we met--but decided not to have it Critter'd at the time, as I was afraid that the eye surgery would leave me near-blind while recuperating (I am blind in the other eye), & it took Stan 3 months to make up his mind, otherwise we would've gone thru & Critter'd it a long time ago. Mostly, at this stage, the religious ideas of the characters need to be fleshed out--after all, it is about religion. Some stupid junior high school student who's flunking science sent in a really nasty review, saying it wouldn't sell because it's about "religeon"; apparently, she's flunking English, too. A couple of the other comments made me mad, but I've learned that there's no point in arguing with Critters; it just alienates a potential audience & could possibly get you kicked off the group, if you're rude enough back.
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