One answer to the ongoing debate I've been having with myself regarding the benefit of public readings...

I spent it on bike. First to Central Park where I did the loop twice trying to ignore the mad, geared out cyclists. They wear racing colors, shave their skin smooth and have muscles that grow at sharp angles. They pass me with ease.

Purchases since last post (most recent first):
1. Bubble Tea
2. Salad & cookies
3. Muffin & coffee

Received my first rejection today. I respect the publication for rejecting it. The ending was no good, not to mention the most of what preceded the ending. The fundamental problem with my fiction is that it does not have purpose.

Walking through the downtown area, can't help but wonder if there are a dwindling number of days that this will all still be here. And then I chide myself for thinking so. The metropolis.

Today I learned that what we westerners know as Chilean Sea Bass is really a fish from the subantartic called a Patagonian toothfish. Wonder why you never saw that on the menu.

I'm hard at work on a story that is overdue, so I can only offer an excerpt from it, and a not very good one at that:

Maurice pulled Gail onto the boat first. She let out a little cry as the boat rocked beneath her and leaned into Maurice for support. She straightened up quickly, composed and embarrassed.

The end of a pleasantly reclusive weekend. The rain a perfect backdrop for reclusion. But I did see friends.

A friend from DC who appreciates my stories and I hers. We talked at impossible lengths of relationships, family, relationships, the future.

Gearing up for a day of writing. Planning ways out of a day of writing. There is a reading event in Red Hook where they are giving away free cookies. Never been to Red Hook, have a soft spot for cookies, free or otherwise, and a writing event is related to the act of writing itself. How's that for rationalization?