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Howard Hughes and the Big Nothing

Probably the worst pain day I've had in quite a while. The Vicodin* supply is low, so I'm settling for Tylenol. I hardly slept. I have to try to wake up and clear my muddled head. Right now, the pain is a sheet of wet cheesecloth covering my face. I think it's wet with gasoline.

I've not been working. I've been dithering, fretting, worrying, wasting. Wasting time and everything else. It has to stop, and it has to stop today. There's a mountain of work in front of me. The screenplay has to be written. There's all manner of editing to be done. There's no time for this.

The days have smeared together.

I have a few notes from Facebook:

And suddenly I am very much wishing to visit Dublin again. I haven't been since April 1996, when Billy and I spoke at Trinity College. I'd spend a week eating, drinking, and buying sweaters.

~ and ~

There are few things more frustrating than having a great title and no story that fits it. This happens fairly often.

~ and ~

Far too much of my work the last three years seems to come down to stunt writing. Jumping through hoops. Pulling rabbits out of hats. Gimmickry. Et cetera. This is what has to end. Well, one thing that has to end. (And FB doesn't know how to spell "et cetera.")

~ and ~

Honestly, "Interstate Love Song," written last July (or June?)** is the last thing I wrote that was worth a damn.

I loathe Facebook. I genuinely do. I loathe the way I've begun to transplants the brief comments I make there to here, often in place of attempting a more thoughtful entry consisting of, you know, paragraphs. It's lazy.

And speaking of FB, here is the most perfect example of one sort of Scary Fan, posted to Nic Pizzolatto's page:

Hello Mr. Nic Pizzolatto, I would love to share my idea with you about a possible season 3 of True Detective. I'm a huge fan and I think some fan suggestions could help you with the creative process. It won't be a long message just a suggestion on a possible location. I don't want any credit if you like the idea or anything like that. I would love to help in anyway I can so you and your crew can put a compelling show together once again.

You can't make this shit up. Well, you can, but why bother when it already exists.

Also, I'm fairly certain I want to title my next short story collection Nothing I Have Is What I Want.

Aunt Beast

* Please don't advise me on medication. Thank you.
** It was, in fact, written in June of 2014.


( 6 comments — Have your say! )
(Deleted comment)
Marc D. Goldfinger
Sep. 7th, 2015 04:54 pm (UTC)
Sorry about the pain. See if you can get some oxycodone and then you can take extra without worrying about the Tylenol damaging your kidneys. Or pure hydrocodone if you can get it.

I hate the acetaminophen which is the chemical in Tylenol that is bad for your organs. Bleh!

I hope you feel better soon.
Sep. 7th, 2015 05:54 pm (UTC)
I like that title. I also like the first paragraph of this post. The dynamics of LJ and such are funny; though I wouldn't recognize you on the street, I think of you often and wish you well.
Eric Cantwell
Sep. 7th, 2015 10:34 pm (UTC)
I can empathize with lost time due to sickness. The short version is that I have a chronic disease; diagnosed at 2 years old, and an unrelated seizure disorder. The medication alone tends to cause drowsiness, which is the bane of my imagination, sincerely, but what do you do really.

As far as using gimmicks go, I think gimmicks can be ok if they are used as a cog within the story and not as a crutch to hold the story up. If coming up with ideas seems to be a problem, for me I find that constant routine in my life causes me to think in routine. This might sound odd, but a solution that breaks me out of this is to go on short walks in parts of town that I almost never see. In fact I sometimes drive a couple of miles away and walk to a favorite location on streets that I rarely if ever see.

For what it's worth...
Sep. 8th, 2015 12:06 am (UTC)
My thoughts are slowly congealing into subconscious impulses clicking on "Like".
Sep. 10th, 2015 06:20 pm (UTC)
I loathe Facebook. I genuinely do. I loathe the way I've begun to transplants the brief comments I make there to here, often in place of attempting a more thoughtful entry consisting of, you know, paragraphs. It's lazy.

I read your posts on Facebook but usually don't comment there. I also loathe when posts from Facebook or Twitter are transplanted to Livejournal but I can understand why you do it. I don't know if it can be done with Facebook but one of my Livejournal friends has her Twitter set up to automatically post the day's compiled tweets into a Livejournal entry. She never posts real entries anymore. At least you still have some substance with your entries.
( 6 comments — Have your say! )