January 13th, 2004

Casey Jones

Casey Jones, you better watch your speed

I'm wondering; which is a better type of bat? I'd imagine the problem with a wooden one is that after too many hits, it may splinter. Do aluminum bats have any weaknesses? I'm leaning towards getting an aluminum bat, but there's something vaguely romantic about leaving "Louisville Slugger" imprinted backwards on some chump's face.

Also, I'm really fucking tired.
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A Solitary Mine

Recipe

Envision a character. This character is an archetype, and is in all ways superior to yourself in the areas where you feel you lack. He (and it is usually a he) should be possessed not only of an uncommon intelligence, but also a sheer animal cunning; coupled, they create a mind capable of discerning the greatest revelation from the tiniest evidence. And he should seem to be infallible. The "seem" is important. Throw in unmatched ambition and exceptional strength and you approach your model of perfection. It should go without saying that he is of the most refined tastes. Once you have combined all these ingredients, you may add others as you like to lend a unique flavor. Take yourself, and patch your most hated flaws. When you are done, you have your villain.

Physical appearance is by no means unimportant, but there is no set guideline for this. Deformities, scarring, or genetic abnormalities were popular in days past, but in the age of corrupt millionaire playboys, evil once again wears a face of beauty. And so, in every sense, you have mankind's self-perceived quintessence.

I'm toying with the idea of writing again. And I would write about a writer, a struggling writer. Not struggling financially; he's got a good job, but he's unfulfilled. And before you think it's too hackneyed, I think I would write it in an auto-biographical, sort of journal style. I'm not interested in making it clear when he's writing fact and when he's writing fiction. Would I follow him writing a book, or from story to story? Or would he simply to with the idea of writing again?

How does a body end up in a trunk? I thought about this this morning as I popped mine open. "I have no idea how it got there, officer." Would he buy it, or not? He'd immediately suspect me, but what could I say to convince him I'm innocent? What if I really was innocent? And is there any better qualification for being a writer than thinking about these questions behind your desk when you really should be working?
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    Salt - Undressed