There is so much I want and need to say and precious little time in which to do it. It’s been quite a summer, yes sir, and I would heartily endorse the idea of everything just slowing the fuck down.
Yeah, it won’t.
There is a bizarre confluence of fate at work here, as somehow it has transpired that I’m the only guy in my part of the organization. Temporary, to be sure, but I’m not comfortable with this much responsibility. I don’t like having to be this careful.
That vague enough? Good. It is late and I am a bit heightened. Next week is going to be a tad brutal, and I’m trying to get stuff done while I can.
This is starting to sound like a suicide note, so here’s some japery, courtesy of The Oatmeal:
I wrote that part four days ago. This week is, indeed, being intense in the most tedious way possible. Municipal budgets. Meetings after meetings after dear sweet god where is that asteroid? Why is it taking so long? (needless to say, I really needed the protracted LOL that Oatmeal animation supplied)
Every time I’ve thought I should sit down and write, there was something else much more important to be taken care of, and the list of movies I wanted to write about here got longer and longer and ungainlier and… whatever the longer version of ungainlier is. Ungainlier – er. Unglaublich.
I meant to be back here with you, I really did. But then, I had an idea. A terrible, grinchy idea. I have been working – on a new project, something that no one but myself would possibly want to read, and I couldn’t be happier. Well, yes I could, but for the consideration of the story being told, I am willing to exaggerate. I felt the need to do something new, and I am fulfilling that need.
I believe I’ve completed the initial research and I’m ready to get started writing (future Freex drops in, wearing science-fiction sunglasses “He’s lying!” and disappears). All I need is, yes, the time. A meeting ended early tonight, giving me a half hour to myself before bed. So here I am, babbling to you like a homesick Civil War soldier writing his wife in hopes that some day it would become the basis of an award-winning series on the devil’s lightning box.
Hm. Reading that, maybe you really shouldn’t want me coming back
And now, here I am, two days later, trying to get this screed into some sort of shape that approaches sharable.
Now, if you really want a laugh, I hope to do Hubrisween this year. If I pull any reviews off, though, they’ll be pretty first draft quality, and not my usual *cough* sterling, polished prose. You’ve been warned YOU’RE ALL GOING TO DIE OUT THERE!!1!
drfreex.com 