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GOODNIGHT, FUCKERS #286: DOING BATTLE

Sometimes when I'm writing I feel like I'm going to battle. I felt that way a couple of novels ago, a book that I sadly aborted. I've been feeling it a lot in the novella I'm working on now. Every time I've tried to write this thing, it fought me every step of the way.


Until tonight. I finally got to the point where everything comes together, and I wrote like white hot lightning today. I expect the rest of it to slip out of my head like the perfect shit Dr. Kellogg was talking about in The Road to Wellville. I needed to do a lot of setup in order to get to the awesome payoff I'm getting to right now. I can't describe to you how that makes my dick hard. It's exciting.


In all honesty, I can't wait to be done with this one. But now I'm having so much fun after months of misery. I hope when I go back to edit the setup that the stuff feels good. I can't in all good conscience release a book that wasn't fun for me. If I didn't like writing it, I know no one will like reading it. Writing that first draft is supposed to be fun.


I'm fairly certain that I'm almost done with this thing. I'll set it aside for a month and work on something else for a bit. Then I'll do the first edit. I hope the months of misery was worth it, because I really like how this is working out.

GOODNIGHT, FUCKERS #285: I AM IN AGONY

I had my first full workout today, minus any foot exercises and most of my stretches. Holy fuck, my body is killing me. Even though without the leg stuff, my workout was a lot shorter, it still fucked me up. I expected that I'd lost a lot of my flexibility, but I didn't expect how weak I've become. I used to be able to lift weights pretty well, but I can barely do five curls with a 25 pound weight. This is distressing to say the least. I used to be a strong fucker, but now I can barely get out of bed. I'm going to have to work on this.


At least I made a lot of progress on projects I've been working on. I work on a lot of things at the same time, and many things wrapped up today. One major project, two experiments and a few editing projects. I'm very happy about this. I'm also happy that I haven't been rejected by Alfred Hitchcock's Mystery Magazine yet. I have a good feeling about that submission. I'm hoping I'll finally break in.


A lot of other projects aren't faring quite so well. That's OK. Sometimes 1 out of every 10 projects work out. At least I have that one, which proves that I'm not an impostor. I'll take it.


I just need my neck and gut to stop killing me so much. That would be nice. I've taken some powders, but they haven't kicked in yet. Hey, I have a new system of taking care of myself. Maybe I'll tell you about it sometime soon. It could help for others having similar problems. Stay tuned. If I don't fuck this up, I'm sure I'll post about it.

GOODNIGHT, FUCKERS #284: MY ATTEMPT AT LIFE

My doctor has always taken a hard line with me. When he saw I was reading a Walking Dead novel, he said, "Do you know who doesn't survive the zombie apocalypse? Fat diabetics." He also told me that I have to avoid the 5 Ps. I only remember pizza, pasta and Portillo's, but there were two others. He also said I should hang out outside of Taco Bell and compare the fat people who go in to the skinny people.


So when I saw him recently, he merely said that I'd gone in and out of the hospital. What did that mean? "That I'm doing something wrong?" I said. He nodded with very little care about it. It bugged me that he didn't care anymore. That he'd accepted my negligence.


I chose this life. I do not want to live much longer than I have. At the  same time, I figured maybe I should be better.


I took steps forward today. No more caffeine after lunch. No fast food. Two drink maximum tonight. I even worked out slightly today. I can't do leg exercises. They hurt too much for my left foot.


Let's see where this goes.