Since the novel is temporarily stuck I've decided to work on a story that started ten years ago and see if I can stand it. I've got about ten journals and the blog from the disk that I found... I'm going to tell the convoluted story of "The Boy". The one who made me crazy, the one who took up so much of my time-- I always said it would be worth it (the crying, the rejection, the ill-advised sexual exploits) because one day I'd write about the experience and it would be a great piece. Now seems like the time, I don't know why. Maybe because I have Bryan, maybe just the season and the music I found quoted in my old blog. I feel super creative, like I can write anything tonight. (Maybe that's the beer talking?) It's weird that it's going to take so much researching to write about something that happened to me, but I've blocked a lot of it out over the years.
Wish me luck.
"should've never started, ain't that the way it always ends..." jimmy eat world
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