InterNutter

[AN: This should have been posted a week ago. Very sorry]

Beloved's father died, yesterday. I know nothing else beyond that news.

It's a bit of a blow. And I know it's bloody stupid to associate that with a novel, but I was doing some minor edits on KFZ both before the day, and on the day. Correlation is not causation.

But damn, I'm starting to believe that book is cursed. Every time I mess with it, something horrible happens.

I gotta repeat "correlation is not causation" and know that curses aren't real.

And yet... writing that book was a pain in the arse. Murphy played with me and mine for the entire period that I was writing that book. My dad died when I was writing that book. My life fucked up a second time when I was doing the main edit. Every time I open that document, something happens to screw with us.

Sigh. Correlation is not causation.

Even if I do get it published by hook or by crook, I don't even know if I want to touch it ever again. Not even if they want to make a movie out of it. Will frikkin Ferrell could publicly state that he's honoured to play a role I wrote for a 12YO boy and I would still not be inclined to lift a finger.

I may not even see the movie. As in "ever". Not that I'd want to with Will Ferrell in it.

So I probably will talk about this with my shrink. And I have to make certain I have my homework with me. And I still have to do all the other noise I have to do to have life happen. Which includes getting on with stuff when I would much rather lie in bed with a good book or bingeing on crime shows. And possibly eating my own weight in chocolate. And definitely cuddling my Beloved.

Life spins on, regardless of what we want or need. It gives us what we have, and we have to roll with it. That doesn't mean we have to enjoy it. It also doesn't mean we have to hate it, either.

Trying to come to terms with that relatively simple truth... hurts.

Meanwhile...

Reading through Beauties is becoming a pain in the butt for other reasons. The first of which being that I'm starting to 'hear' everything I read in the awkward, artificial voice that doesn't seem to have much truck with English.

I can, with mental effort, get Morgan Freeman to read for me, but if I don't pay attention, it reverts to "Victoria" from Apple's selection of atrocious artificial voices.

There is the technology to make computers sound more human. Why Apple hasn't used it instead of continuing on their minimalism kick, I don't know.

I'm aiming to get up to chapter thirty-five, today. Just as I aim to get up to frame 20 in that Hatchworth animation I've been working on. And I'm doing it to prove that I can. Not necessarily because I want to.

But giving Sam Luke an animated thank-you for his years of working as a robot seems like a good enough gift. I could even go back and hand-colour each frame of animation if I wanted to.

I'll see how I feel about it by the time it's done.

Knowing me, it'll probably take longer than it would for the Sleep Evil Sleep Project.

Whatever. I'm doing this damn thing and whatever kudos I get out of it is a bonus. It's not for vainglory. It's out of love for the band.

It's all my writing that's for vainglory. And a potential income.