Pow! Ka-bam! wait...

Last night I watched Casablanca for the second time in as many weeks. It reminds me of film school, inexplicably, as we never watched that film in film school. I remember watching Nosferatu, though. Anyway, I guess, when you look past the era-localized dialogue of Casablanca, you get down to the core of storytelling for film... the scene, the cast of characters, the leading character, their challenge, the road, the point of no return, the climax, the kicker. It's a classic and it's classy.

I'm working through a bunch of pieces for a section I was assigned for my school's Alumni magazine. They're coming out pretty good so far. I still have to organize an interview and might have to hunt down a few photos, but other than that, looking pretty sharp.

I feel like I haven't been writing lately, though, honestly, it seems like I've actually been doing little else. That's what happens during semesters with lit-intensive classes. I write constantly, just not as much the things I want to work on. Right now, actually, though, it has been a nice stack of essays, many of which are more related to school transfer applications. So much "self-selling," a big change from my usual self-deprecation and chronicles of human-nastiness. Hope I recover from all of this positive thinking.

In other news, I was recently given a sweater knitted by a werewolf. It is actually rather comfortable.

more bla on submissions

Subs currently out: 23

How likely one is to be published: Less likely than I'd like to believe, I'm afraid.

I don't lead with B material, but as I gather new good short pieces, I frequently see who I haven't sent something to in a while and give 'em a bit of a razzle-dazzle. That's the correct method of dealing with this whole process, at least I'm told it is and am inclined to believe it is.

So, it is September, the month of my birth, and this September marks a whole really long giant and memory swallowing amount of time since I've been up North during the fall. What is it about Ohio in the fall? What is it about Connecticut's falling leaves, Maine's crisp coastal breezes, Vermont's local fall festivities that captivate me so? Sometimes I feel like a man possessed by apple cider and hay-ride memories. And cinnamon donuts.

Big shout out to Patterson Fruit Farm where the finest cinnamon donuts are available alongside scrumptious apple cider (this is coming from a guy who has pressed his own cider before, people).

(gosh I just realized how drearily New England it is to brag about pressing cider. Consider it stricken from the record, but secretly not)

I'll let you in on another secret, too: I wanted to go to bed 13 minutes ago, but I am compulsively staying awake right now. To what end I have no idea. I need sleep. I like sleep, when it is happening. It is the before-sleep brain-jogs that cause me to avoid the pillow, I think. My brain goes wandering, and when it does so, I get concerned. I usually try to blur it out by reading until I literally cannot keep my eyes open anymore, but that may not be an option tonight as the wife is already asleep and my desk lamp would probably wake her, that and my reading material is not the sort I can blur through.

I will wake up very tired tomorrow and will require coffee. I've become dependent on it, again, lately. I was dependent on it when I was younger, too... getting up at 6:ANYTHING to get to school on time (long drive, frequently in 3+ feet of snow, up hill both ways, sled dogs, etc.) causes one to crave strong stimulants early in the morning, minor status or not.

I was struck by a wretched thought today... just now, actually. I'm not sure that the people currently closest to me would tell me if I smelled bad or not.

I'll leave you with that thought until something more profound occurs to me.