Too excited to sleep. It is Randy Newmans' music still buzzing in my head. It is the fact that it is Friday night and I have just revised my short story--which I really shouldn't have done, because now I feel out of touch with the other story. Hopefully, it'll find its way back after a while.
Maybe just another Randy Newman song, and another read of my short story, then I will settle in for the night.
By: Nippy | Saturday, April 23, 2011 at 3:58 PM | | 
My classmate in the intermediate fiction writing class is so amazingly attentive to the craft of writing. It gives me the thrills reading the red marks he left on my page on how to tighten my sentences and how to strengthen my writing. I wish he was my editor.He's techniquely centered, and I just know in my guts that one day I am going to see his books on bookshelves. I just know it. (the jealousy)
Ok. Lee, you are right. I might have a little sorta crush on this classmate in the intermediate fiction writing class.... Oh boy..
By: Nippy | Friday, April 15, 2011 at 11:34 AM | |
I just got to work and boy. the drama. It's in moments like this I really hate working in Chinatown. So. What happened was this. I was hungry, so I went to get myself an eggtart at a Chinatown bakery for breakfast. It should have been a simple affair. But S.F Chinatown is really a hell hole for ruthless old people who whack people with canes, are genearally grouchy and malevolent overall.
So I was in line. Behind me were several more people. These two old women came in and just started to stand in front of me. I told them. Hey. There's a line. please line up. The one closest to me ignored me and simple stood there. Ok. So I gave up and just let them be. That really should have been the end of the story. But then I guess she felt embarrassed or whatever-shamed. She started to utter bad stuff about me. What a bitch. So young but already a bitch. whatever. That kind of thing. I wanted to just walk away. She's old I mean, with a cane. But then, I just went mad and I walked back to her and said. Hey. Were you trying to tell me something? Because I've always hated it when people talk behind my back. She must have been shocked, or frightened, because then she started to rail about it loudly int the streets. I still had to walk away in the end, because there really was no point to it. Not like it would have changed anything worthwhile anyway. But after the initial anger faded, I felt (can I say this and not get stoned) good. I mean really good. You know, I should have felt bad and all that stuff telling an old woman off, but really, I don't know that it reflects very well on me. But hey, I felt bloody good. Come on grouchy, queue cutting evil old women. I'm not afraid of you. But really, if it can be helped, I'm just going to eat breakfast at home before coming out to work in the future.
By: Nippy | Thursday, April 07, 2011 at 12:18 AM | |
Drove myself to Fort Fungston, Listening to "Death by Electro" sent by a dear friend, reading Shakespeare, did my laundry. All Sundays should be this perfect.
By: Nippy | Monday, April 04, 2011 at 5:46 AM | |
FUCK. This guy in my intermediate fiction class's story is so good. I fucking hate him!
By: Nippy | Saturday, April 02, 2011 at 1:50 PM | |
