February 18, 2002
Hardcore Babble as in Lon
Today seems rather a wasted day.
I had some black raspberry ice cream. It was pretty good.
But now I'm fatter.
So I guess that was a waste, too.
Sally Jessie Raphael had some lunatic black preacher on her show who not only beat children himself but encouraged his congregation to do so. Really crazy religious people scare me. Because they can't be reasoned with.
Why does Sally need three names? And if you were going to have three names, why Sally and Jessie and Raphael?
Except maybe for Raphael. He was one bad ass turtle.
On the brightest note of the day, which is indeed a dim one, I was writing on the epic novel. It's everpresent in my mind, but for some reason I haven't been able to wrench any of that quality fantasy shit out of my head and transfer it to the page.
And I've been thinking lately that perhaps I have no business writing fantasy at all. As Kels so aptly explained it, most fantasy is about the events and the places. The people are sort of just apart of that. And I write everything as though it were about the people, and the things that happen are to compliment the characters. And the only other author I know that gets away with writing fantasy like this is Juliet Marillier, and I know I'm not on her level.
So maybe I should just go back to medieval England.
Even though I have the sinking suspicion that my hopes for that tale are above its capabilities.
I'm sighing. Will I never be satisfied with my creations?
I have a harvest gold and avocado green pillow case. It's awesome.
astera at evening bo-bevening