I saw Newsies!
The only bad thing about was the impossible-to-turn-off captions with New York accents. "HEY WHO MADE YOU MY MUDDER?"
Step 2 of Batweek: successful.
(Step 1, by the way, was also successful).
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Perpetual Disclaimer
I'll be perfectly honest here for a moment. I like to make sure that things with my name attached are of a certain quality of make, design, thoughtfulness, comprehensibility and responsibility. The internet in general is not the natural habitat of those qualities, and this blog in particular is a vile wasteland where their unluckiest seeds drift onto the scorched and ash-choked earth, grope blindly for life through the putrid smog for a few torturous moments, then die in blind agony as the fetid, poisonous air seeps into their very essence and burns them from within.
In an alternate metaphor, this blog is my margin. (Margin is one of those words that stops looking like a word after a couple seconds.) If you want something of substance, look elsewhere. (Perhaps somewhere off the internet altogether.) And no, I haven't put my name on it and I haven't told anyone about it. So you're either reading this completely at random, or because you wanted to know if I had a blog and knew exactly how creative I am when thinking of aliases and exactly how willing I am to pay for site space, or because you're stalking me and you've stolen my laptop to see where my bookmarks lead, or because... giants? took over the world? and you're--no wait--I was the sole survivor? and I kept a record of the takeover Cloverfield-style starting in a few posts? and eventually I went insane as a fugitive of the giant gestapo and either went down like the book version of I Am Legend or just recorded my sad yet enlightening decline into madness until the last entry is some lame recovered memory that bursts in right before I die, like The Awakening? Please say it's the I Am Legend one. Please?
In an alternate metaphor, this blog is my margin. (Margin is one of those words that stops looking like a word after a couple seconds.) If you want something of substance, look elsewhere. (Perhaps somewhere off the internet altogether.) And no, I haven't put my name on it and I haven't told anyone about it. So you're either reading this completely at random, or because you wanted to know if I had a blog and knew exactly how creative I am when thinking of aliases and exactly how willing I am to pay for site space, or because you're stalking me and you've stolen my laptop to see where my bookmarks lead, or because... giants? took over the world? and you're--no wait--I was the sole survivor? and I kept a record of the takeover Cloverfield-style starting in a few posts? and eventually I went insane as a fugitive of the giant gestapo and either went down like the book version of I Am Legend or just recorded my sad yet enlightening decline into madness until the last entry is some lame recovered memory that bursts in right before I die, like The Awakening? Please say it's the I Am Legend one. Please?
Blog Archive
tree falling in a forest
well, for some reason, this exists now
Very-much-in-character-explanation-by-way-of-story: When I was at a Young Authors' or some such conference in high school there was a very wise sage speaking who compared writing to turning on a faucet. If you don't write for a long time, all you get is orange, terrifyingly bad-looking sludge for awhile, and you just have to let all that run its way out of the pipes before you get to the good stuff. So, uh, fair warning... this is sludge.
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