I’m still mostly killing time. I’m playing lots of solitare in that time I have reserved to to great things at the computer. I’ve concluded that being a novelist is a crappy job and that fame is a racket. It doesn’t stop me from wanting to publish a novel. Perhaps I will rewrite FAILUR.
The dog died yesterday. She was old and sick. We could just say ‘it was her time.’ I listen to my son, 7, tell his friend on the phone that “these things happen.” Even babies die sometimes in their mother’s bellies, he says. I’m freaked out, but cool outside.
Watched the new V series tonight. It was way Cheesy. In an hour they raced through the introduction of the alien visitors, public reaction, the “relevation: the aliens weren’t benign, and the formation of the resistance movement. The character were thin and the dialog was bad.
There were elections today somewhere. A lot of idoits are talking about them being a referendum on Obama. A lot of people need something to talk about to sound important.