I broke into my own house today using my housekey on the front door. My plan succeeded in every way.
See, a lot of times I try too hard. It's just a thing I learned when trying normal didn't seem good enough. Now I operate in extremes.
When I play driving video games I have a terrible time keeping the car going down the middle of the road. I overcompensate with the steering and journey along the outer boundaries of the course.
Things get destroyed.
Sometimes I do not finish.
I was going to write something else but I forgot what.
Names fascinate me. I discovered the American Name Society for myself today. I might subscribe to their journal. A journal all about names, promoting the study of names and the naming process. Onomastics it's called. I am fascinated with the social function of name dropping. It's fairly obvious why people do it, but I still obsess over it. Freakonomics has an interesting chapter about the life cycle of names, which follow the same cycle as fashion, hobbies, and just about everything else.
I am really grieved by all of the fun-making of Tom Cruise lately.
I keep sneezing, which makes it difficult to type, and even more difficult to see what I've typed.
This blog is supposed to be about literature, books, philosophy, movies, writing and things like that, all of which I know nothing about. I'm just faking like a lot of other people.
I am going to start up a literary journal entitled I ONLY PUBLISH MY FRIENDS AND PEOPLE IN OUR CIRCLE BUT YOU CAN STILL SUBMIT SOMETHING YOU SCRIBBLED, IF YOU REALLY WANT TO, SO WE CAN LAUGH AT YOU DURING OUR PERIODIC MEETINGS FOR TRYING AND TRYING AGAIN LIKE A GOOD LITTLE IDIOT, BUT YOU CAN WATCH US PRAISE EACH OTHER AND FEEL HOW BADLY YOU WANT TO BE IN THE CIRCLE, AND THEN TRY AGAIN LITERARY REVIEW. The magazine will not need cover art as the name will take up the entire space.
No, I am not against writers supporting one another as a community. What would make anyone think something like that?
The science experiments in my basement are going well. I've managed to splice the leftern hemisphere of a human brain with a right human buttock with virtually no loss of function in either component.
Also, I've blown out the wall of my library. Many many books were destroyed. Also, Mozart's head is missing. It would look like a face with a curly head of hair and a jumpsuit with a ruffly necktie, and inside will be a chalky white cured plaster material. I'm sick of this shit happening all the time. I lost Shakespeare's head last month, and Napoleon Bonaparte before that. Heads everywhere, it's like Robespierre's Great Terror down here.
Robert Olen Butler wrote a book called Severance where each piece is the last minute and a half of thoughts that may have occupied famous decapitated heads. I bought it because I was working on a story about a celebrity body parts dealer. This concept, gimmick, whatever you want to call it, seems to have shaped his next book, due out in May, entitled Intercourse, about the sex famous people may have had. Just like sex and death, names move books, people. Name up!
I've been typing this post for awhile. I just might keep writing it forever.