On Being a Shut-In
It’s like what they say, write what you know. Well right now I know what it’s like to be couped up in a house for days on end with no social outlet but AIM and the internet. Two manuscripts, back to back will do that (in all honesty, the back to back part has sort of converged into this nightmare of writing two books at the same time, which I really don’t recommend, cuz it makes me want to cut myself–up the highway, not across the road)*.
It’s driving me nuts.
Which brings to mind a possible solution. Driving. Why not just drive my ass to a coffee shop? Drag my fat ass off this chair, slap on fresh undies and go. At least I’ll have some interaction, even if it’s to order a tea or something. It’s a sound suggestion, but I won’t do it.
I’m not fit for human consumption.
I’ll go to the gym, but I won’t talk to anyone. Especially in our town, where political correctness is a religion. What am I going to talk about? The fact that yesterday I was researching rubber nuns that hang out in gas masks in underground convents? Organized groups of people that intentionally crash into student drivers? Latex love doll wannabes?
Regardless of how interesting, these topics will NOT be well received. I guarantee you.
(and are they not interesting? Dear God let me find the convent. And seriously who doesn’t want to ram into a student driver from time to time? It’s perfectly acceptable behavior, if you ask me)
While we’re on the subject, is this weird?
Didn’t think so. Moving on…
And I have no intention of making nice and talking about the weather, town issues or the economy. I’m just not going to do it. I’m not
Instead, I’ll just keep trying to be on schedule, finish watching Grey Gardens which is mesmorizing and disturbing and inspiring (at least to me), read, listen to incredibly maudlin musical stylings, figure out how to cut another 100 calories from my diet without resorting to an I.V. and keep emptying this big bottle of water down my gullet. Metabolism peeps, it’s not a kickstand.
One day these two books will be done. One day.
******
In less pathetic news, Happy Hour of the Damned was nominated for an Urban Fantasy Land award. It’s in the same group as lots of my pals, so feel free to vote for anybody you like. There’s a $25 gift card up for grabs, so make haste.
*This is not a cry for help. I repeat. NOT a cry for help.
Hope that you survive!
I can relate to the PC stuff. I live in a smallish town where they used to give you a reading test if you registered in the other party. But I still talk politics regardless.
You’re SUPPOSED to talk to people in public? DAMN! I knew there was something I was doing wrong.
Totally!
Organizations of people that deliberately crash into student drivers…your life has become decidedly Palahniesque…or at least J.G. Ballardian –
I likey.
You know, I get the same blank stares from people when I tell them about sloughage or how the decapitated heads of cadavers are put in chicken roasting pans for face-lift refresher courses for burgeoning plastic surgeons or that necrophilia wasn’t a crime in any U.S. state until 1965. Which, coincidentally, was the year I was born.