And George Clooney. I want to fight George Clooney.
Here’s a haiku about today:
What a waste of time.
Didn’t write a goddamn thing.
Well, that’s not quite true.
I’m actually writing and working quite a bit. The problem is that I’ve got about 7 things I’m writing now, and I’m making progress on all of them, but not finishing any of them. The going is slow, but at least it’s going.
Still no rain. The situation is dire. See, rain to me is like wind to a sailor: without it, you just have to sit there and hope the crew doesn’t gang rape you while you die slowly of scurvy and shame. Whatever. I am about to roll the dice on a supernatural solution and try a traditional Nekid Celtic Rain Dance in the backyard. If that doesn’t work, I will sacrifice a goat. Somebody’s got to do something, and I’m somebody, dammit.
Okay, enough of this bilge…this whiskey isn’t going to drink itself.