Lately it's been all about living for me, so I've rather been neglecting you all (those of you who still stop by on occassion). Shit's been happening, no lie, however I am so wrapped up in fiction and then the whole living-my-life-lately, that I'm not in the mood to write about it. But, I feel some sort of vague obligation to this thing, not that you all feel obligated to comment back, mind you. So, with that stunningly original blogservation (heh! did it again!) here goes:
Greg and I crossed a line of sorts, but I tain't gonna tell you what it is. All y'all can just use your nasty little imaginations.
I'm to see NIN play tomorrow night and lo and behold if the damned drummer didn't get himself put in the hospital yesterday. They're searching for a replacement drummer and so far the show isn't canceled. Now, I don't know all that much about music, much less this sort of industrial rock (like, am I even calling it the right thing? I've no idea). My friend BB exposes me sometimes, but I haven't sought out others who play their genre cuz I'm old. I just like NIN a lot.
Even so, I do know that the drummer is pretty important; he or she rather sets the cadence for each tune, right? Trent can scream all he wants, but without a decent back up beat pounding alongside, it's just an old, ugly guy standing there screaming. This concert was a bit of a stretch for moi, emotionally and logistically, and I really still want to go! I want to be somewhere where I'm the only person without a tattoo. I want to scoff at the parents of the thirteen year olds in attendence. I want the hoarse voice and when someone at school asks me if I'm sick, I can just say, "Naw, I was at the NIN concert last night."
Hmm. Hopefully they can find some drummer who's been obsessed with NIN since the beginning and could play along in his sleep. Otherwise, how do they expect to put on a show in 36 hours? I'm sure Tomaloma will have something to contribute on this subject, and maybe even Jack.
I went out Friday night with the girls and had the unusual experience of being out with someone who had a fake ID and who promptly had it taken away. We were having fun, but since this one person couldn't go in, we had to go somewhere else which wasn't as much fun. This is a little irritating when you've had a valid ID for nearly two decades. But I made some entertaiment for myself (tee hee). I also was hit on three or four times. It gets a little foggy after the shots, but I think if a guy on the street tells you you're cute and tries to strike up a convo, then that's getting hit on, right? He was cute, too, at least through the drunken blur.
Saturday Night I did nothing, which was exactly how I wanted it. In fact, besides the kid's soccer game (0-1, dammit) I did a whole lot of nothing this weekend. It was awesome.
My current book--regular readers knows it's about a guy named Sean based on Big Scary Guy at the gym--is getting along smashingly. I rewrote the first chapter based on suggestions from the critique group and damned if I don't think it's going to be a great book. It's revolutionalized. The character actually has... character. Anyway, it's being loads of fun and I'm in the obsessive-compulsive place I get where I'm living this guy's life alongside. It's why I'm a writer, so I'm going with it. I think I may post the first chapter temporarily for y'all to take a look at. Maybe. I'll think about it, if you say please and give me lots of offerings in the form of Irish whiskey and Odwalla smoothies. I like Mango Tangos, icy cold, thank you.
My dog is doing awesome, she is using her repaired leg, sometimes even at a trot, and she's got great energy. She's definitely not in the pain she was in. Time for puppy school!! Heh. Someone was telling me that she should have gloucosomine so she doesn't get arthritis in the joint. They clearly weren't listening when I explained how she no longer has a proper joint, since she had most of it removed.
Hmm. How y'all been?