It turns out I can generate a lot of ideas by lying on my back, naked on the bathroom floor. Something about the cold tile, I think, discouraged my brain from lethargic meanderings and had me getting to the point on several issues. Most of these issues, I'm happy to say, having to do with my novel, and I believe I've finally gotten over some of the major stumbling blocks that'd prevented me from continuing with chapter sixty six. Which is well as I've decided a lot of my current unhappiness has come from lack of attention to my writing, causing my focus to wander to more confused, less healthy things.
I'm feeling a great deal better now, by the way. Thanks for the e-mail, Cryptess.
...
I should also note that on Tuesday I purchased Farewell My Concubine at Tower Records for just fifteen dollars. Between that, Miller's Crossing, and Artificial Intellegence, I've certainly been getting my share of great, great movies for peculiarly low prices. I hope this trend doesn't make me broke.
I guess this is one advantage to this fucking job. Money. But is it enough? Methinks . . . not.
But I don't wanna think about that place right now. I don't have to go back there until Thursday night, so I think I'll just try and forget it exists.
And concentrate on things that don't exist instead.
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