There’s a blurry Nash up there because it was on Craigslist for $1300 and I really wanted to buy it.
I am, at this moment, building and writing more things than I have at any other time in my life. With each passing month, the projects seem to get more elaborate and ambitious.
And yet, I’ve fallen out of the habit of talking about them. Or of talking about much at all. Maybe I should change that. Tomorrow’s the beginning of PenguiCon, and I’ll be selling books, but I say that shit all the time, and if you’re there you’ll see me, and if you’re not, who cares?
You know what’s interesting, though? (to me, at least?) The editorial I just wrote about Lincoln for TopSpeed.com. And Holly’s story, the third book in the Empty Cradle series, which is about 170 pages long and growing at this point. And the RV I’m rebuilding. And the lamps made out of old cellos, and Trundle, my 1976 Mercedes 300D, and the plans to rebuild my 1954 Chevy pickup, turn an old typewriter into a USB keyboard, and an old piano into a writing desk. That stuff’s interesting. Already this year, I’ve rebuilt a Radio Flyer wagon for post-apoc use, attached dozens of old doors to the ceiling of my office slash writing space, and made furniture out of pallets.
So I think I’m going to talk about that more. As well as books, and stories, and my imaginary life, which is usually more interesting than the outside one. I want this to be the start of something. What, I don’t know. Just something.
This is stuff I said on Facebook yesterday:
–You know who I wouldn’t fuck with? The guy who drives the Toyota Prius that I see parked in the employee lot at the Ford plant in Wayne (and not in the back row, either). That guy has clearly earned the right to do whatever the hell he wants, and I don’t want to find out how he earned it.
–Morning commute soundtrack: Powerman 5000, “Bombshell.” Just that. Listened to it twice so all of my imaginary friends could do that formless, enthusiastic joy-jump dance you do when there’s no room to actually dance at the concert.
–Yes, I had pound cake, mixed nuts and Mountain Dew for breakfast. Now taking bets as to what will kill me first: my diet, falling off of a lyra, or (the surprise dark horse contestant) a covert nighttime attack by a squad of NSA-trained murder-ferrets.
–“Kordeski trained you?”
“I trained Kordeski.”
–Things I wish I could draw: an adorable cartoon piglet with rubber gloves and a hard hat. When people asked, I’d tell them it was a Mike Rowe pig.
–Google says I am a pangolin. I am pleased with this.