Funny | The Bookmaker’s Note 4/24/21

Writing log: TBN +915 words

• • •

Part 1 | 3 Dots

So it’s come to my attention that the little 3 dot separator I’ve been using in every single TBN post up to this point and on my homepage as well has decided to display itself vertically rather than horizontally. Don’t know why or for how long that was going down BUT as you can see in this post, I’m using my own damn 3 dots now. Works better for me this way anyway, fuck you very little.

No but I’m having a solid and productive day today. I’m not done yet, it’s only 19 after 5, but thus far I’ve edited the homepage of the website (changed more than just the 3 dots, go look) and also the Books page and all the individual book pages (changed how the links are displayed, go look!) and I’ve also reviewed and transferred all the stories for OTR’s back of the book anthology from Scrivener into the book manuscript in Word (you can’t look at that yet, be patient for Christ’s sake!). I don’t know how many pages OTR is going to be, I’m probably not going to start reviewing it until Monday because WEEKEND SUNDAY BITCH but the anthology in the back of the book? That’s exactly 110 pages long, including the front matter. I think the full book will land in the 300 range. I’d be surprised if it hit 400.

And uh… that’s all I got for now. Y’know, I literally worked from 8ish am until about 3 pm bookmaking and doing the website stuff. Mostly bookmaking. Like, 89% of the time was spent bookmaking. But my point is it felt like a lot more than it feels now having wrote what I’ve done. Funny how that works.

It’s now 19 to 6. Let us see what the rest of the day shall bring forth.

Part 2 | Yikes

Well it didn’t bring a whole lot, I’ll tell you that much right now.

So I went down and had dinner. Rice, chicken, and cheddar cheese all tossed together like a salad with not enough chili pepper salt sprinkled in. My mom was down there in the kitchen, having the exact same thing. I told her she should make the taco salad shit for dinner last night but she looked at me as though I was mentally ill and just made the chicken. So I called her out on it tonight and ’twas revealed that when I said “make a taco salad” the previous night, she thought I meant make a salad with lettuce and shit and put the chicken and rice in it.

In other words, ’twas actually my mother who was mentally ill, not me. Yikes lmao

No but I don’t think she’s mentally ill, not any more than the rest of the population of Planet Mediocrity (The 2020 Event |The Main Event|, 2019). She asked if I wanted to watch a movie though, and I straight-up denied her. Said no and sprinted away as fast as I could. Fuck that shit. I returned to my computer and wrote a sentence towards ANATH, deleted half of it because I wasn’t sure I felt like progressing with it tonight, then deleted the first half because I became sure I didn’t feel like progressing with it tonight. I edited for 7 fuckin’ hours, my brain is like ramen soup (Discombobulated, Eminem, 2020). I know, shut the fuck up you broke-ass babyback bitch and get fucking working, the work aint done ’til you’re not living in the parents’ attic. Trust me, I know all about that, the voices won’t get off my goddamned back about it.

But here’s the thing about it: I’m going to eventually get out of here. When I do, I am moving far away. Not as far as possible, but far enough that I’m’a take a fuckin’ plane if I ever want to come back and visit. Probably Colorado tbh. Mountains and marijuana, what else does a bookmaker need? ANYHOW the point is, I’m not gonna live here forever, ‘man. She’s my mom. I don’t spend much time with her. There are some days that I only see her for literally 10 minutes when my family gathers at the island counter in the kitchen to eat like we’re sitting at a bar even though there’s a goddamn motherfucking cocksucking cunt of a fucking dining room literally 10 feet away with a table and chairs THAT ARE NOT FUCKING CUSHIONED BACKLESS BARSTOOLS but I’m getting off point. I’m not going to live here forever and I still have HBOmax for another week and my mom wants to watch Godzilla vs Kong. I’m going to watch it again on Wednesday (I’ll tell you why on Wednesday, chill) but it’s honestly one of the greatest filmographic spectacles ever produced and if I want to watch it more than once in a week then I fucking will. K? She’s my mom, I’ll spend an iota of time with her if I fucking please.

Christ, 900 words of whatever the fuck this is but I couldn’t do more than a sentence for either of the 2 books I’m tryna write. Funny how that works, isn’t it? If you productived today, let me know in the comments how many words you wrote. Make me feel inadequate, I need that so I do inane amounts of work to make my budding god complex flower like a rose: with thorns for all those who try to fuck with me.

If you’re there, hypothetical reader, thank you for being there. From this day on, we move forever forward~

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