. . . incredibly trivial. Really. Yes, I know; I am no worse than anyone else, worrying about what’s five feet in front of me instead of something nebulous in another country. I have a Facebook friend who’s remarkably blasé about climate change. He doesn’t care; he won’t be alive in a hundred years anyway; climate change has hapened before; and who really cares if New York goes underwater?
Okay, I see his point. I do. You have a hard time remembering or even caring about starving refugees from Syria or Biafra if your boss is tearing you a new one.
I once heard someone say that a conscience and caring are luxuries of the moneyed elite. I understand where that guy’s coming from–that you can really only afford to be charitable when there’s no real risk to you–though I don’t necessarily agree. I think back on history, with its innumerable examples of people risking their lives to help others.
Anyway…it’s hard to be overwrought when people are getting blown up in Brussels, and the worst things that happened to me today are a) a contractor who was supposed to finish a clean-up he started yesterday didn’t show or answer texts or his phone (cowardly, cowardly, you ask me) and b) I managed only three chapters in outline instead of five. (OTOH, I proof-read a story pdf that’s coming out in an August anthology, SCARY OUT THERE, edited by the incomparable Jonathan Maberry and about which I am so STOKED.)
Oh, and one other really nice thing today: I was at the gym, and a guy working there, Shaud, happens to be a fan and wanted to get a picture with me. So, it’s like . . . sure, I’m game!
Shaud asked a really interesting question, too: Why don’t I talk more about what I do? Why don’t I tell folks that I write?
You know, I was brought up not to toot my own horn. Also, it’s awkward, isn’t it? I mean, when would it ever come up that I write? When you meet someone, you don’t say, “Hi, I’m a great lawyer” or “Hey, there, nice to meet you. Did you know I won an Olympic gold medal in the hula-hoop?”
See what I mean? If it comes up, I’ll say what I do. Otherwise, it’s like . . . I’m just sweating here.
Nevertheless, having a picture with Shaud was fun. Nice young man 🙂
So why ever would I spoil a good mood by talking about Ted Cruz’s psychosis or Donald Trump’s nonsense about pulling out of NATO? They’re idiots. Dangerous idiots. But still idiots.
WRITING OUT LOUD
DEAD MOUNTAIN (placeholder title)
Day 1: 1500 (outline)
Day 2: 0 (outline)
Day 3: 0 (outline)
Day 4: 0 (outline)
Day 5: 0 (outline; soon, I swear, soon.)
Day 6: 0 (yeah, yeah, yeah; articles)
Day 7: 0 (articles; it’s okay)
Day 8: o (ditto)
Day 9: 0 (ditto; don’t judge me)
UNTITLED SF BOOK
(Previously had 1500 in outline)
Day 1: 2400 (outline)
Day 2: 2400 (outline)
Day 3: 2000 (outline)
Day 4: 2000 (outline)
Day 5: 0 (Nu, I was busy)
Day 6: 2400
Day 7: 1500
Blog Post: 590
***
What I’m Watching:
House of Cards, Season 3. Fun, if silly. I’m sorry, but Claire . . . you just want to slap her.
***
What I’m Reading:
Gosh, tons of articles on ancient viruses and a strange, very unique way that viruses signal to other cells. Oh, and a big problem at the polls for Democrats in Arizona: can you say dirty politics?
***
What I’m Listening to:
CNN about Brussels. This is so depressing. What is even more depressing is listening to folks in Arizona–like Romney–trying to help Cruz get the votes. Like…guys…
