When my wife goes out of town I get kind of weird. I work too hard. I watch too much TV. I eat too much junk. I stay up too late.
It’s a window into an alternate universe where I never got married and I never became a father and I just became more and more introverted, typing these incoherent ramblings into a machine so late at night.
Let me tell you. That’s one path I’m glad I didn’t take.
A little craziness is OK. It’s probably healthy. It’s how I managed to pound out my first and only novel two years ago. But a lifestyle it does not make. But occassional descents into madness? That’s acceptable.
I think I’m going to do it again. The novel in a month thing. It would start on Wednesday. I have a vague idea, but that’s it. I just like the thought of pounding out words on a keyboard like some kind of manic, knowing that against all odds something redemptive is taking shape in my words.
Hopefully. Maybe. Possibly. There’s a remote chance. Or it’s just crap.
I guess we’ll have to see. But first I need a name. Maybe Aleksandra. It feels a little heavy. I like heavy. But it needs to be the right kind of heavy. Sedgewick was perfect. I don’t think I’ll find another name that feels so right. I guess that’s why they call it the sophomore slump. You can do it once, but can you do it again? Fear and doubt. It doesn’t matter who we are or what we’re trying to do but that fear just creeps right in, doesn’t it? Weird.
I warned you. I guess that’s what happens when I watch Fight Club at 11:30.