Tuesday afternoon, 3:35 p.m.
And now there's talk of a cold summer, thanks to ~90% of the Great Lakes having frozen over this winter.
There was a breakthrough yesterday with Cherry Bomb. Fuck inspiration; I'll take anger over inspiration every goddamn time. I wrote 1,404 words, the most I've written (fiction-wise) in a single day in a long, long time.
Last night, after watching the most recent episode of Archer for the fourth time, we began watching The Americans, which is actually quite good. Set in 1981, the dawn of the eighties is nicely rendered. The pilot makes great use of Fleetwood mac's "Tusk." My flashbacks were many and intense, those days when Reagan ruled the "free world" and we all waited for the fire to fall.
Thirty-Three Years Farther On,