I'm feeding the cat wet food in the morning while Linda is gone. I'm trying to do it exactly like my wife does -- Panga likes it in a kind of warm soup. I try really hard. Something I'm doing isn't right.
She looks at me like I'm trying to poison her.
I really am surprised I haven't gone back to Reddit since that chainsaw massacre was sprung on me.
I really am creeped out by that. Enough to avoid a site I used to like.
I'm really charged up to start the last chapters today and I wasn't yesterday.
This metaphorical well that I measure on my creativity, has an almost physical weight. As if it is a real measure, not a metaphorical one. Hard to explain.
I was looking for some 'Cast out the Demons' prayers for Death of an Immortal. The Catholic Church has some AWESOME ones. I could pepper the book with them. Vampirs, be gone! To me, these are as much fantasy as anything I could write, a thousand years of liturgical weight.
Martha asked if I was going to do them in Latin.
They are already so weird as to be in a foreign language.
Sunday, February 10, 2013
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