The "M" Word

I'm writing a short story called "Moss." And my one-act play is called "Must." I'm in an "M" phase. Saturday is the day I'll complete the first draft of "Must." So don't let me talk to you on Saturday. I'll only be procrastinating. I need to be protected from myself. And the whole day is reserved, stretched out, like an infinite chalkboard. And if it means I've got to unplug my Universal Consciousness Cord (a.k.a. the cable modem) I might just. Don't tempt me fate, I've got a plan.

Here's where I knock on every wooden surface in the tri-county area. And there's where I use exaggeration for comedic effect. My muse is a hyperbolic generator.

So I've tried resisting it, but I've been made aware of a new procrastination tool: The Kingdom of Loathing. I'm only a level 2 Pastamancer, but then I did just start today.

I think I've hit my stride with "Moss." But then it'll only clock in at about 1500 words, and it's non-linear. It's like I said to BF when I was driving to work this morning, you know how your skin cells have a life cycle of seven years? What if your brain tissue did too? Every seven years the folds twitch and move about and you get different neural pathways and synaptic leaps UNHEARD of seven years before? So like, my brain is not the same brain on account of the tissue being totally different. What does that mean about my thoughts? Does that make me crazy? Does ECT (a.k.a. shock therapy) and anti-depression medication knock the folds back in place? Riddle me that, world.

Sure, I'm still wearing the ski hat. Why do you ask?