Moving to Austin was a little scary because I’d never been to Texas and everything you hear about Texas from the outside is a little, well, unnerving. Also I had, for the most part, enjoyed my time in France and moving to Texas from France seemed like it might be nothing less than a journey to Opposite Land.
It’s a good thing we live as long as we do, generally. Because otherwise we might never learn anything. As a kid I used to sing, “Marseedotes and Doeseedotes and little lambs eedivy. A kiddle-dee divy too…wouldn’t you?”
Looking down at the clutter between me and the monitor (nope, still haven’t cleaned the office…my OCD is like the old joke about cops never working to your advantage) there lies a small book, “Slang and Euphemism, Third Revised Edition, A Dictionary of Oaths, Curses, Insults, Ethnic Slurs, Sexual Slang and Metaphor, Drug Talk, College Lingo and Related Matters” by Richard A. Spears. (Not this guy)
Which has only tangential relation to this post. As prescribed by God, fate or most likely Satan himself, I experience — once to twice a year — a back strain that completely incapacitates me. The past few days represent just such an occurrence. Thankfully today is a better day. I’m sure work will appreciate it too since I’ve been out of the office for four days total now, including half days: first related to Nikki six getting +12 boobs (she’s a large C now) and then related to me getting out of the shower and falling on the floor in a pile of twitching agony.
After putting up with months of invitations to games and groups (no I can’t be bothered to even *look* for the place to turn that shit off) the final straw was the privacy BS you had to opt out of. Nothing pushes my hot buttons faster than when something happens to which I am obligated to say “no”, lest the impelling force continue on its merry way over the top of me. Yes, I realize this is the nature of our lives: to struggle in order to survive. But I don’t like struggling. The less of it I have to do the better. Opting out? I mean who invented that? I want to set them on fire.
Who it kills depends on who’s holding it.
This is something I’ve been mulling ever since finishing “Black Bottle” and sending it off to Paul. I like it when no one’s safe in a book. Right now I’m mulling the elements of book #3. As anyone who’s read “The Last Page” can tell you, the setting is fairly elaborate. And the world is easy fodder for another book. Prequel? Tangential plotting? Hmmm.