just another depressed Tuesday...

...so the real good is today -- I don't have to read any more of Brad's Singing Trees novel, mostly because he's sick of being reminded that he should remove the long expository passages. I did, however, want to at least see how it ended, though, & I suppose now he won't read Noc-Lar, even though he did comment on sex in fantasy -- Den of Earth, Harry Canyon, & So Beautiful, So Dangerous to the contrary, albeit a film like Heavy Metal only comes out once in a lifetime.

So Brad bailed on the DR. That means more time to spend on Noc-Lar, more time to spend on my painting, more time to spend on my Birds of Fire.

However, Tuesday held mostly normalcy for me: Trish walked off to Pizza Hut same time as usual; I surfed the darkened seas; I gave Brad an honest opinion that he didn't want to hear -- but it probably will make his novel unsalable. Once I finished the latest installment of Brad's stuff, around 1:00, I only had an hour before Trish came home with a driver, so I had little time to devote to my newest novel.

She claimed to be "depressed"; something about being slow, took her shower while I played Girl, You Couldn't Bite My Wire, then reheated the tuna noodle in the microwave.

After Trish's daily cleaning chores, we watched Bachelor Party, to build up the excitement until the Viagra kicked in.

Although the sex was real atomic, I'm out of free samples. Doc Larocque wanted me to check whether one of the other vaso-dilators would work better.

Could be... but now I have to wait -- first thing you learn is, you always have to wait -- to see the doc, unless the famous Mr. ED goes away by itself.