I might fiction something later, but for now I’m just going to say hello! Hope your weekend rocked. Mine was pretty rad.

He was sitting in the only chair — the only furniture — in the white-walled room, tapping his feet. Whoever had designed it had gone for the “no discernable exit” look and made everything the same color. There were no doorknobs either, which had to be a violation of some code or other, so he hoped that the place didn’t catch fire.

The woman who led him to the waiting room said his appointment would be “just a few minutes,” but with nothing in the room to gauge the time, he quickly grew bored and resentful that he wasn’t even provided a copy of Highlights for Children.

He closed his eyes for several minutes, then tried to find the door. He thought he saw the rectangular outline, but… something was off. It wasn’t the right size. After blinking several times, he decided his eyes were seeing what they wanted to see. He returned to his seat and resumed tapping.

short on time today. I still prefer the short lunch, though.

I spent all weekend reading programming books and websites, so now all I want to do is design magic systems. I’m thinking once I get my flat tire fixed, I’m going to read me some Arthur C. Clarke… and then maybe play too many video games. Kidding! Maybe.

I don’t spend nearly enough time reading anymore, which makes it kind of tough to write. Someone once described the act of reading as “going to the well”, which I guess would mean the act of writing is peeing… what was I saying? Right, the well. Maybe reading was filling the well. Whatever the case, the well is getting dry. There’s, uh, a big boulder…

Let’s ditch the well analogy, as I’m sure you all know what I’m talking about. It’s not writer’s block, because I still have ideas and I still scribble them down excitedly, but there’s something weird about sitting down to write that seems weird. Kind of like going to exercise without stretching, or singing without warming up. My creative muscles need a warm bath or something. Whatever. Look, I need to read books. I would ask for recommendations, but my “To read” list is longer than the guitar solo in “Free Bird,” so I’m not sure that’s a good idea…

In other news…did everyone have a good weekend?

Number 1:
Randall was the kind of guy who looked at the pre-release crunch as an opportunity to better himself. He no longer bleeds when he punches through coworkers’ cubicles.

Number 2:
She locked her keys in her car and spent the whole day and most of the evening standing on the porch. Her husband is kind of a jerk like that.

Number 3:
He vowed to never give up until his band hit the big time. When she finally said yes, he was at the bottom of a very deep pool full of money. He’d given up on her, but cake-on-demand was probably worth it.

Number 4:
His eyes weren’t what they used to be. The switch from books to digipages made it necessary to ditch those old carbon-based things in favor of the ten billion megapixel EyeCam Duo’s.

Number 5:
You should be a writer, she said, keeping a straight face.

—

Sorry, discipline isn’t always pretty.

—

UPDATE: It has been suggested that I challenge the regular readers of this blog to add a sentence to one or more of these…things. I won’t challenge you. I dare you.