Monday, July 2, 2018

Pierwalker Log: July 2, 2018

Writing start: 8:47 A.M.
Finish: 3:35 P.M.
Total new words (est.): 1400
Edited (est.): 5200

Tasks

1. Failure: Off till July 16

2. Book Three Melody: 700 new words
Notes: The mistake is attempting to explain the unexplainably epic. By definition, it can't be explained. The solution is to maintain focus on the human.

3. Watson: 300 new words
Notes: A little more give today. Maybe a thousand words more to complete the chapter?

4. Love Story: 400 new words
Notes: This chapter is off to a good start. I could've written another two hundred today, but thought it best to hold off and let the story simmer a little on the back burner.

5. Ant story: Off

6. Fractalverse: Volume 5: Off

7. Firefly: Read-through of chapter eight
Notes: Coming up to a major hook in the next chapter. This chapter is pretty strong as its set-up.

8. Gilligan: Read-through of chapter two
Notes: After a year and a half, it looks as though tomorrow I'll be starting chapter three!

Extra notes: Coming up on a hundred pageviews today. It's only happened three other times in the history of this blog. No idea why it's happening: I don't believe today's offerings are any more extraordinary than just a few days ago, when I believe I barely topped thirty. It's all so fickle. Then again, so are people.

The collapse of the United States of America continues unabated today. I'm trying not to think of it too much. To that end I am going back to a disciplined news schedule of M-W-Th-Sa. That gives me three days of no news whatsoever, which, I've noted, has produced positive results in the past.

The moral lassitude of my fellow citizens, even now, is astonishing in a way I can't adequately illustrate. The hell that we're bringing down on ourselves we have thus richly earned. I don't say this from a position of privilege; I'm a totally broke individual, one who has been repeatedly castigated and ostracized throughout my life for my refusal to get along and go along with the herd. I'm 56; as a result, I can't find work, despite being more than qualified in the jobs I've applied to. I'm alive only because my partner keeps me so. It's that simple.

I'm going to go out in a few minutes here and get back to work sanding the TARDIS in preparation of painting her. I've never sanded a vehicle, or painted one. Doing both, just as writing is for me every day, is an act of unabashed optimism in the face of monstrous darkness swallowing this nation whole. It sets me apart from so many of my fellow citizens, whose indifference is the very fuel that darkness feeds on in order to continue growing and spreading.

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