I'm being forced to update this blog on my wife's accursed iBook. It is without a doubt the shittiest computer I have ever used. Ever. My power supply on my comp blew out last week, and we don't have the money in the budget to buy a new one right now. I'm bummed, but I'll make due I suppose.
I've had some ideas for stories and plot devices burning around in my head recently. Actually, I usually have something going on up there, but lately I've started to feel like I want to start writing it all down. I know that I pretty much never will unless I'm acted upon by some outside force (I'm the embodiment of newtonian physics if you didn't know) so I'm giving some thought to joining a creative writing class this summer. Something to shake me up a bit I guess. I think it would be good for me.
I've been watching some documentaries on Philip K. Dick thanks to my awesome Blade Runner birthday present, and it's made me start thinking about the stuff I've got going on up in my own attic. Apparently he would let ideas perculate in his mind until things reached critical mass, whereupon he would just start writing everything down. It makes me wonder if this methodology would work well for me.
The funny thing is, I've had this idea about collaborating with Andrew on some new RPG book or something like that. My wife has always pushed this idea for me, and I always liked it even if it seemed quite impractical.
On a semi related note, everyone reading this who has some semblance of a heart or soul needs to read this.
It is without a doubt one of the most brilliantly moving pieces of literature I have ever read. I'm not sure that I can really explain its power without cheapening anything for a potential reader. I guess a good way to put it would be that it is one of the saddest and most emotional post apocalyptic stories I've encountered. It's beautiful.
Lastly, I love Imogen Heap. That is all.