This past weekend--that brutal Saturday schedule knocked me on my ass, and I never really recovered from it. I needed the sleep I got today.
Today, the sun is out and it's over sixty degrees and I have the doors open to get some much-needed fresh air in the place. And I have absolutely zero energy to do anything more strenuous than sit here at the computer and bloggerate; I don't even have the energy to write fiction right now.
Taking a ride on the bike might help if I had insurance on it, but I don't, so--
There's lots to do, and no energy with which to do any of it. I feel utterly spent right now, like you do after you've had the flu for a week and are no longer actively sick but still weak. That's how I feel.
I suppose it goes without saying that I have had neither the time nor the ability to further the flashback sequence for my rewrite, nor to do anything else creative. The stopping point I arrived at in the flashback sequence has the hook for the next several pages; I just ran out of time/energy/words in the middle of the scene I was writing. I know what happens next, so when I do have time/energy/words, I'll pick up where I left off without trouble.
But even so, it doesn't really help me get anywhere. The first step of being a successful writer (or even simply published) is, as Heinlein noted, to write, and I'm not really doing that. (Step two is submit, submit, submit, which I am also not doing.)
I don't understand why my body hurts the way it does after I'm done at work. It's not like I move literal tons of freight around; 90% of my time is spent standing and talking. WTF.
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Mrs. Fungus and I ended up watching Heathers early Tuesday morning because we couldn't sleep. She pointed out that Christian Slater was basically trying to imitate Jack Nicholson for the entirety of the movie.
We also noticed that Winona Ryder was wearing a monocle when she was writing in her diary. A monocle? Seriously? How affected is that?
In December of 2012, in the runup to Christmas, Mrs. Fungus was thinking of our wedding plans and worried that we'd let it slip to family that we were planning to elope on the 31st. We were imagining the way people would be surprised; and I (as usual) had to add an element of the ridiculous to it, and talked about how the upper-crusty rich guy in the corner would be so shocked, his eyes would go wide and his monocle would fall out.
Then I said something like, "Hey! Who the hell are you, Monocle Bastard? Get out of here! You're not even part of our family!" And so Monocle Bastard was born, and I found several old pictures of men with monocles and did "MonocleLOLs" which I sent to my then-fiancee via e-mail.
...so of course when we saw Winona Ryder with her monocle, what came out? "Hey, you, Monocle Bitch! Get out of here!"
I ended up looking at IMDB to figure out what various actors in the show had done, and found out what happened to the actress playing the head Heather (the first one to die, that is). There's a scene where she disdainfully asks someone, "Did you eat a brain tumor for breakfast?" The actress died, ironically, of a brain tumor.
That was only the second time I saw that movie. I didn't really like it very much the first time, else I would have watched it more. It hasn't really improved much with age, except for a couple of points, and the realization that Christian Slater was trying to be Jack Nicholson just made me want to reach into the screen and strangle him every time he said anything.
...actually, I pretty much want to reach into the screen and strangle him any time I see him. I don't feel much better about Winona Ryder, to be honest.
Speaking of annoying actors, Holly Hunter doing Mrs. Incredible in The Incredibles made that a hard movie for me to watch. I don't like her voice at all; the one tolerable role she acted in was in Always, Steven Spielberg's retread of A Guy Named Joe. (Actually, she was pretty good in The Piano, mainly because she never opened her mouth. That helped a lot, even though I thought the movie was asstastic nonsense.)
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Anyway, today is a peaceful spring day in the bunker, and for that I am grateful.