Catchup and Random Crap

Okay, first off, this is something totally random I thought about this morning, spurred by a picture of the man. Do you think G. Gordon Liddy dyes his mustache? I saw a giant picture of him on the back of a bus this morning, and man, dude's got to be in his seventies, and his mustache is all luxuriant and black. However, every time I see him, I think of him in Miami Vice (yeah, don't ask which of the two episodes he was in this is from), and he tosses this...thing...on a conference table, and says, "You know what those are? Ears." Pause for effect. "Sandanista ears." Ewwwww.

Also totally randomly. I'm sitting on my couch, and it's 7:27pm, and I can totally see the moon out my window, which I've never noticed before in the whole five years I've lived here. That's sort of nice.

Okay, other things. Well, the only other thing, really. The book. The book is...hard. I mean, I feel bad. Emilia is a really sweet person. She's a little one dimensional right now, but overall, she's nice. And I had to marry her to an asshole. An asshole who's going to kill her. And I had make Iago, who is, believe me, an asshole, rape someone. Which was . And then I had to give Emilia a miscarraige, and the girl's got a lot of woe ahead of her. However, I am on track.

Last night I needed to get out of the house to write, because history bears out my inability to write at home (well, I did tonight, but last night it wasn't happening). So I decided to try a new place, the Greenberry's down in Rosslyn off of Rhodes. So I got down there. Plenty of parking (that's good), went in and not very many people were in there, which was fine. I got myself a vanilla caramel latte (YUM! Excellent coffee), and sat down. Not so much on the plugs, but that was okay, I was pretty charged up. The a guy sitting at another table gets up and goes outside, and comes back in with a gym bag, which he leaves by the door, and he sits back down at his table. Hmmmm. Weird. About five minutes later, he get up again and goes back outside and comes back in with...a mic stand. A mic stand? Shit. Is there going to be music tonight? He goes back out and comes back in with a reading stand. For....music? Maybe? Then another guy comes in, and they greet each other, and one of them says to the other, "Well, we might be reading to each other." My mind at this point is whirling with possibilities. Is it Bloomsday? No, that was in the spring, and Greenberry's is not an Irish bar. Some other obscure author that they are going to be reading? The Beowulf society? More people come in, and some of them have instruments. I am completely confused by this, put my headphones in and ignore it, because, frankly, I have my word count to think about. Then the music starts, and it's, not offensive. A keyboard and a flute. It's...whatever. And then the first guy gets up and welcomes us to "Poesis." Yeah, and it's not just a poetry reading. It's a jazz poetry reading. Yeah, that was pretty much the end of the writing, and finally at 8:45 I bailed because, frankly, I was not missing The Apprentice: Martha in favor of an old guy who bore more than passing resembalance to Mark Twain read sex poetry.

Leave it to me to wander in the one night of the month the place is hosting a poetry reading. A jazz poetry reading. ::shakes head::

Updated word count at left. Same excerpt up at nanowrimo.org.