March 24th, 2004

flavored with age


So I've been crawling through the wreckage that is my website's archive section, listing every single entry (and attempting with very little success, since I have absolutely no objectivity about this crap anymore, to pick out the best ones) in aid of possibly collecting the better pieces into a book. (Peripherally, I'd like to add an index or an archive that lets you find stuff by title.) And you know what?

HOLY CHRIST IS THERE A LOT OF THEM. I've been writing an entry a day for two and a half years, and that means well over seven hundred entries. It's teeeeeeeeeeedious. And a lot of them are, well, they're not good. And I don't mean "not good enough to put in a collection" not-good, I mean "not good by any rational definition of the word" not-good. I don't even remember writing a lot of this stuff, although it's very easy to pick out the ones I wrote when I was drunk. I will be very, very happy to put this project behind me; once I'm caught up I can just update the index daily without having to wade through hundreds of entries. Gaaaah.

Also, I fucking have to get some work done on my crappy novel. It's been laying fallow for quite a while now. It's generally for a good reason, since I've been doing tons of other writing, including some freelance jobs that paid pretty well; but I really have got to get back to it. I've already fucked my deadline for the first draft (end of February 2004), so I want to at least have something to show by summer's end. And I've got a bunch MORE writing to do this week before I can even touch it again. For some reason, one of my editors has been ignoring my e-mails and pitches, which is bad because she pays me, but maybe it's good because if I don't have to do anything for her this month, I can get some work done on the fucking book.
flavored with age

Conceptual Lime Rickey

My problem with limericks: though fun,
They always have to end with a pun --
Preferably one that's sexual.
My gags intellectual
Have nowhere to go when it's done.

The limerick form, though quite charmin'
And frequently slick and disarmin',
In rap finds no takers
With movers and shakers --
Except maybe MC Paul Barman.

Although for fixed forms I'm a dork,
My limericks just don't seem to work --
Or else, like that line,
They just don't really rhyme.
I'll invent a new form, called the 'Cork'.