Le Freek (C'est Chic)
Aug. 29th, 2008 08:05 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
handful_ofdustSet-up on the zombie novel pitch isn’t going badly—I’m through a lot of the structure and some of the character-building, and it’s all sort of falling into place. Next, I need to move on to explaining the backstory, the “what exactly is happening here?” punchline, before spining the plot itself. I want to be as specific as humanly possible, and I want it to read like a book. So I’m using a particular methodology Mad Pulp Bastard Bill Cunningham supposedly uses to outline his stuff, because in thinking further about it, I’ve come to enjoy the idea that what I’m writing here really is an updated Weird Tales serial in novel form. This goes back to my original urge to emulate David Wellington, while also branching off into slightly more Lovecraftian territories than he usually penetrates; cool beans. I’m excited.;)
Meanwhile: Today’s meeting with the Principal at Cal’s school, in preparation for next week’s JK adventure, went really well. They seem open, prepared and committed, not least because they do have two other Autistic students already, and this guy’s wife used to work at the Geneva Centre (so he knows what he’s talk about/what’s involved). Was able to go work out afterwards, too, which will make me…five for seven this week, as of tomorrow; I feel good, and my stomach is noticably less bloated—thought that may have a bit more to do with the fact that (drum roll, please!) I finally got my period last night, full-bore, with all the normal trimmings. Not that getting checked out is going to hurt, probably...
On the minus side of things, I do feel like I’m fighting some sort of bug again, annoyingly: Scratchy throat, cough, snot. I’m tired, too, but I think that’s just the bleeding. At any rate, I’m not going to let it knock me off the wagon.
State of the Cal = happy but whacky. He kept coming out with very odd, tangential stuff today and yesterday—singing along with “I Can’t Decide” by Scissor Sisters (or rather, repeatedly fixating on the phrase “fuck and kiss”, albeit with such a weird emphasis that most people who don’t know him probably wouldn’t be able to figure out what he was cracking himself up with), announcing that food is “creepy delicious!”, driving himself into ecstasies by glitching on nonsense phrases like “oopsy loops!” and “freek de leek!” He’s looking good, though; started to fill out sideways again, instead of only growing upwards. Three separate people told me how beautiful he is yesterday.
I also wrote to my Dad, who’s turning 70 on the 13th. Because it’s such a “significant” milestone, his S.O. Janina saw fit to send me an invitation to his party, which I thought was pretty funny (it’s in Melbourne, so chances are, I won’t be showing up ;)). In the letter, I told him what’s been going on—didn’t lie, since I saw no reasons to. I’ll put a birthday package together tomorrow, have Steve post it from work, and it’ll get there when it gets there. The great part about Australia having crappy overseas postal service is that you always have something plausible to blame your own lateness on.
Aaaaand…that’s it, gents. Back to the thing at hand.
Meanwhile: Today’s meeting with the Principal at Cal’s school, in preparation for next week’s JK adventure, went really well. They seem open, prepared and committed, not least because they do have two other Autistic students already, and this guy’s wife used to work at the Geneva Centre (so he knows what he’s talk about/what’s involved). Was able to go work out afterwards, too, which will make me…five for seven this week, as of tomorrow; I feel good, and my stomach is noticably less bloated—thought that may have a bit more to do with the fact that (drum roll, please!) I finally got my period last night, full-bore, with all the normal trimmings. Not that getting checked out is going to hurt, probably...
On the minus side of things, I do feel like I’m fighting some sort of bug again, annoyingly: Scratchy throat, cough, snot. I’m tired, too, but I think that’s just the bleeding. At any rate, I’m not going to let it knock me off the wagon.
State of the Cal = happy but whacky. He kept coming out with very odd, tangential stuff today and yesterday—singing along with “I Can’t Decide” by Scissor Sisters (or rather, repeatedly fixating on the phrase “fuck and kiss”, albeit with such a weird emphasis that most people who don’t know him probably wouldn’t be able to figure out what he was cracking himself up with), announcing that food is “creepy delicious!”, driving himself into ecstasies by glitching on nonsense phrases like “oopsy loops!” and “freek de leek!” He’s looking good, though; started to fill out sideways again, instead of only growing upwards. Three separate people told me how beautiful he is yesterday.
I also wrote to my Dad, who’s turning 70 on the 13th. Because it’s such a “significant” milestone, his S.O. Janina saw fit to send me an invitation to his party, which I thought was pretty funny (it’s in Melbourne, so chances are, I won’t be showing up ;)). In the letter, I told him what’s been going on—didn’t lie, since I saw no reasons to. I’ll put a birthday package together tomorrow, have Steve post it from work, and it’ll get there when it gets there. The great part about Australia having crappy overseas postal service is that you always have something plausible to blame your own lateness on.
Aaaaand…that’s it, gents. Back to the thing at hand.
