Escritando

When you sing to your mum, and you hum and you croon
And she says that she'd like it "with more of a tune"
And you smash your guitar at the end of the bed
Then you stick it together and start writing again
And you know that it won't be too long 'til your back
To bring her some money, she's calling you "honey"
Stashed in a bloody great sack
In your Cadillac
-the Who

Getting back to writing after a 8 week hiatus is never easy. It's like to trying to get an old lover going or working the fancy coffeemaker; there's been times when i've forgotten how to work both.

The blog is easy, because it's been reinforced into my routine. It's like eating or peeing. Or pooping that last three days. But these novels - these F@#king novels that take three years to write from inception to end. And then the rewrites and more rewrites. I am not a patient man.

Does Chuck Palahniuk write and rewrite? Probably. That's surely part of how he's so good.

I've read Survivor, Fight club, Choke, and Haunted; all of which were deliriously strange, disgusting and true.

So what am i doing here? I'm just the Butler, hoovering to look busy til the Lady of the house is away and then i can get back to my biscuits and tea.

I've been working on a Cerebral LapDance (my solo music stuff) Compilation. Culling thru the archives and catalog. My advice is to poison your mailman now before it can be mailed to you.

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Okay! Wrote for a few hours. I'm back on the bus!