I have a ream of crits to do for group as well as several stories to read for the zine (we are officially now down one editor), so I've been fairly absent around Crapometer lately. After tomorrow, things should settle into some semblence of routine for me. As in: other adults should cease and desist seating themselves at my desk and reading what I'm writing over my shoulder and trying to talk to me and stuff. My favorite is the person who gives me more stuff to read.
I just read somewhere about syncronicity between what we write and what we live, the latter often following the former in eerie fashion. For me lately it's motocross. I'm writing a screenplay for an amateur filmmaker. He said to write in motorcycles because he knows a lot of people who ride and they can be the baddies in the movie. Now the husband is trying to start motocross riding (a childhood sport re-emerging as he is about to turn 40). I've been to two motocross events in as many weekends and I like it. There's something medievally sexy about a guy walking around in his motocross armor and gear.
But, more importantly, if he gets a motorcycle for his birthday, what should I get for mine?
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