Work yesterday consisted of going through galley pages for the Centipede Press edition of The Drowning Girl and figuring out where the illustrations ought to go (there are nine illustrations).
Yeah. That's all. I am so fucked.
Ah, wait. I also spoke with someone at the John Hay Library at Brown, and I'll be meeting with them in March about donating most of my papers.
Since late December, we've been working our way through The Shield. We're partway through Season Four. It's a very watchable series, and yet it manages to be entirely mediocre. The writing is pedestrian, the characterization weak, the acting merely passable, and the dialogue entirely forgettable. And yet, it's undeniably watchable. I find it bizarre to have made it this far in and not be walking about the house spouting lines from the show. I have this thing about memorizing dialogue. But it does have to be memorable dialog. I was hoping for writing on par with, say, The Wire – which I find myself quoting on an almost daily basis. Alas, nope.
If I Choose To,