Is it Friday yet?
Just barely, at the moment. So Horseboy is up for crit tomorrow. At this rate I will be doing my best to stay awake long enough to take notes. I'm actually really proud of it, in spite of the malformed lumpedness of the plot and distinctly horsey aroma. My poor little ugly baby. Isn't he cute? With a rewite it *might* be interesting to someone who publishes something and wants to pay people to put their story in said publication. That is the goal, eh?
For your amusement, I present a scene from a screw loose comedy I'm considering writing calling "Dinner for One at the Clarion Cafe, or, Requiem for a Zombie"
(Scene: Unnamed woman goes into restaurant, sits down without opening menu and waits patiently for the server. There is a large bandage on her forehead, much like ones on some of the her fellow human diners. A group of zombies sit at another table, splitting a brain sundae and talking about a killer Halloween party they went to last year. At a booth, a mermaid luxuriously unfurls her tail while spooning grey goo into her lamprey like mouth. The well worn cover of her book is visible, titled The Viking. In one corner another diner has peeled the bandage off and is beginning to bang his or her head on the laminate table, muttering "this just isn't working for me." )
Server (carrying notepad with large red pen and a stack of manuscripts under one arm): You got two minutes. Order.
Woman (in a polite and overly cheery voice): I think I'll start with the spastic critique sampler. Then I'd like an order of deep fried nerves and general lack of sleep with extra gravy. Does the lack of sleep come with a side of unnessary tension ? (waitress nods) Great. I'll order desert now too...Yeah I'll take the pie a la mort -- don't forget the cherry.
Server: to drink?
Woman: how about one of those hormonal smoothies -- you make them regularly, right.
Server: once a month, regular as clockwork.
Woman: Yeah I think its about time...
Server: (chewing gum, pauses to shake head and circle unnessary commas and incorrect use of "its" and "it's" on the top manuscript...Mutters to self) amateurs. (to diner) You know, by the time the check gets here you're gonna wish you had just relaxed and enjoyed this whole thing....
Woman: (laughing) I'm sure I'll be paying for this meal for some time but like mom always says, that which does not kill you...
Server: in that case, lemme get you some Tums.
Woman: great, I'm starved. Mind if I work on this story while I wait?
Server: suit yourself, just don't leave any brains on the table --What is it with you kids and that headbanging thing?
Woman: um, how long is it going to take?
Server: 5 weeks or thereabouts.
Scene.
Thank god for Edo. After weeks of talk, I finally took him up on the offer to join him for a jog in the evening. I'd been meaning to do this the entire time, but, so it goes. I forgot how good it feels to pound pavement. Even if I had to drop back and walk the killer hill, it was totally worth it. I may even try a repeat preformance tomorrow. Note to future kiddies: GET EXERCISE.
In other news, T called, which always manages to make me feel extra shiny. I got to hear someone else's dramatics -- the impossibly long plane flight from Idaho to DC (via SEATTLE...How bizarre is that?) and getting ready to marry one's best buddy (and by marry I do mean perform the ceremony...HA!) Though I did get a little bit of chiding for my impulsive impromptu boating trip last weekend it was still good to hear his voice. Makes me feel all warm and fuzzy in my tummy. Well, that and the fact that I ate a solid meal for the first time in in 48 hours...Note to self: don't forget to eat.
Apparently, if the planets align a massage therapist may pay us a visit this weekend (at our expense, don't go freaking out thinking CW is footin the bill just cause we got a few extra meals and a cooler house than the last couple of years.)
Also, don't forget to do your laundry on a regular basis or you will find yourself floating around the house in your only remaining clean clothes (not good in my case) until the dryer stops goes off.
Off to bed. Sweet dreams.
For your amusement, I present a scene from a screw loose comedy I'm considering writing calling "Dinner for One at the Clarion Cafe, or, Requiem for a Zombie"
(Scene: Unnamed woman goes into restaurant, sits down without opening menu and waits patiently for the server. There is a large bandage on her forehead, much like ones on some of the her fellow human diners. A group of zombies sit at another table, splitting a brain sundae and talking about a killer Halloween party they went to last year. At a booth, a mermaid luxuriously unfurls her tail while spooning grey goo into her lamprey like mouth. The well worn cover of her book is visible, titled The Viking. In one corner another diner has peeled the bandage off and is beginning to bang his or her head on the laminate table, muttering "this just isn't working for me." )
Server (carrying notepad with large red pen and a stack of manuscripts under one arm): You got two minutes. Order.
Woman (in a polite and overly cheery voice): I think I'll start with the spastic critique sampler. Then I'd like an order of deep fried nerves and general lack of sleep with extra gravy. Does the lack of sleep come with a side of unnessary tension ? (waitress nods) Great. I'll order desert now too...Yeah I'll take the pie a la mort -- don't forget the cherry.
Server: to drink?
Woman: how about one of those hormonal smoothies -- you make them regularly, right.
Server: once a month, regular as clockwork.
Woman: Yeah I think its about time...
Server: (chewing gum, pauses to shake head and circle unnessary commas and incorrect use of "its" and "it's" on the top manuscript...Mutters to self) amateurs. (to diner) You know, by the time the check gets here you're gonna wish you had just relaxed and enjoyed this whole thing....
Woman: (laughing) I'm sure I'll be paying for this meal for some time but like mom always says, that which does not kill you...
Server: in that case, lemme get you some Tums.
Woman: great, I'm starved. Mind if I work on this story while I wait?
Server: suit yourself, just don't leave any brains on the table --What is it with you kids and that headbanging thing?
Woman: um, how long is it going to take?
Server: 5 weeks or thereabouts.
Scene.
Thank god for Edo. After weeks of talk, I finally took him up on the offer to join him for a jog in the evening. I'd been meaning to do this the entire time, but, so it goes. I forgot how good it feels to pound pavement. Even if I had to drop back and walk the killer hill, it was totally worth it. I may even try a repeat preformance tomorrow. Note to future kiddies: GET EXERCISE.
In other news, T called, which always manages to make me feel extra shiny. I got to hear someone else's dramatics -- the impossibly long plane flight from Idaho to DC (via SEATTLE...How bizarre is that?) and getting ready to marry one's best buddy (and by marry I do mean perform the ceremony...HA!) Though I did get a little bit of chiding for my impulsive impromptu boating trip last weekend it was still good to hear his voice. Makes me feel all warm and fuzzy in my tummy. Well, that and the fact that I ate a solid meal for the first time in in 48 hours...Note to self: don't forget to eat.
Apparently, if the planets align a massage therapist may pay us a visit this weekend (at our expense, don't go freaking out thinking CW is footin the bill just cause we got a few extra meals and a cooler house than the last couple of years.)
Also, don't forget to do your laundry on a regular basis or you will find yourself floating around the house in your only remaining clean clothes (not good in my case) until the dryer stops goes off.
Off to bed. Sweet dreams.
posted by Eddie at 12:45 AM
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