Coffee. Two cups. Black. Hot. Refreshing.
Bad dream I had slowly fading from my mind. Tried to put it into perspective. Succeeded. Never did acid. Very active imagination, though.
E-mails. Didn't want to work on the manuscript, as I would stay home all day and write. At a pivotal point. Could this be why I'm having these terrible dreams?
Could also stay home and finish Necronomicon Book 5: The Journal of Horror and Erotic Cinema. I would take it to work, but I fear the cover would offend someone. I could turn it over, but whenever I bring a book people like to see what I'm reading. I'm a large proponent of "if it offends thee, don't look," but I know other people go by the "curiosity killed the cat" method of life and then get pissed when they get exposed to some mental pathogen intent on destroying their worldview. So the book stays at home. Great stuff on xenophobia, the Hostel franchise and the role of "becoming" (especially amongst females) in horror cinema, tracing back to the forgotten Hammer gem Dr. Jekyll and Sister Hyde. Makes the heart weep.
Getting the portfolio polished. Putting out some query letters. Hope springs eternal, or some such nonsense.
Watched some Extras last night and was reminded why the American version of The Office is still just a pale imitation of what it sprang from. Sure, it has come into its own, but it still isn't as satisfying or even successful as its British father. What that show did in such a small span of time is nothing short of amazing. It went out at the right moment, and if anyone thinks differently they would have a hard time proving it to me.
Enjoy the day.
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