Daddy. Yesterday, Ray sat in the rocking chair, looked at me, and chirped: “Hi, Daddy!”

Diary of Edgar Pierce. A little experiment. Thursday: Ate squid at insistence of sister. Friday: Or quite possibly octopus. Saturday: The texture was rubbery, although not quite as rubbery as rubber itself. Obsession with cephalopodic meal continues. Sunday: Am being followed by strange presences dressed in trench coats and fedoras. The aroma of the sea.

Once upon a time… There’s stuff I want to talk about that I don’t want to talk about. Car situation, worries about Banshee Studios, the ever-present financial woes, the near-maddening internal debate about what to plant in the front yard come spring, stuff. Just stuff. So here’s me, just writing. Uh, don’t read this if

Ooh. Geeks of the world, gawk: Invisibility…uh…windbreaker. Of doom. Via Jon, purveyor of cool stuff.

Escapism. Today, thinking of Doyce and his dickweed po’lice officer, I renewed the tags on the car. I had to go back in to work for a meeting today at two; I decided to leave early just to finish up a few things before I had to go. Put the tags on the car. Stopped

Library. There’s a revolving door at the East library in Colorado Springs. Most people avoid it, choosing instead to pass through the handicapped entrance (a normal door) to the side. I say, how often do you get to go through a revolving door, anyway? …And there’s a coffee shop that serves espresso right in the

Ray. She’s feeling better. She was giggling when I came home today. Ahhhh.

A good story I heard at work. You know how it is. Every once in a while someone tells you a story at work. It’s your classic gathering of friends with small children. The evening progresses, everyone’s been fed (changed if necessary), you’re sitting on the couch, leaning back, when someone interrupts someone else’s brag

Rrowl. And I still haven’t finished the first chapter of the story. Ok, it’s up to nearly forty pages so far, and I’ve only missed three days since Dec 31. Nevertheless. And I’m going to have to do a rewrite before anybody (even Lee) is begged to read anything. Once again, I think to myself:

Six more weeks of winter. I’ve passed Groundhog’s Day without comment. First, it was a bright, sunny day. (Whistle cheery theme here.) Then, it became darker and ominous. Darker, and more ominous. Lions and tigers and bears, Oh my! Finally, I said, “Shit!” Joe’d gone to a company dinner for post-Christmas. Some idjit had almost