I have amazing powers of prediction… And, scrying into the shallow waters in my scrying dish I see a future looming for today. And I see… And I see…
That, barring an unexpected surge of energy, I will probably not make my wordcount goals for NaNoWriMo today.
Yes! Already, do I see that in my near future!
Silliness aside, I am fairly certain this will be the case as I struggle to find the motivation to work a paying job, not to mention a non-paying job notably and curiously (ok, not so curiously) lacking in hoards of fans clamoring for the next installment of my momentous epic mechpunk fiction (I assume that’s a thing; adding ‘punk’ to a words seems to make it a fiction genre).
It’s an innocent thing and entirely unpredictable. My war-ravaged body (okay, maybe just ill) decided that the witching hour was a great time to remind me just how much it hates me (as it is wont to do at 3am or thereabouts when it has a temper tantrum).
Muscle spasms, throbbing joints and extremities, were apparently not enough, but my psyche decided to add it’s two cents in, just for giggles, and I got all dolorous, morose and, frankly, wanting to switch off the switches to make the knives and hammers, needles and pins, go somewhere far, far away. I think I saw the avatar of my desire, but she was in no mood to give a kiss last night. Moods did not improve as a result. [I should note that it is quite likely to the point of certainty that this muse of mine is a illusionary figment of my damaged brain, so it is no surprise there was no hanky-panky. Still, one can always hope for a date with one’s muse, can one not?]
Anyway, these unruly roommates contained within this sad sack of saltwater went on and on for a good long while (two hours, I think) and kept me up with their partying. I’ve basically got a hangover from lack of sleep and didn’t even get to have any fun. Plus, I still am having aftershocks as the daylight quells the savage toddlers within.
Wordcounts are likely to stagnate today.
Originally posted at sceadugenga.com