wildcat

The hum of machines (computers, lighting fixtures, air conditioning) throbs on around me like a second wall. I spent half an hour in the ghetto coffee shop this morning working out the names for alien languages (I'm much too much in love with "Astro-Etruscan," I think) and writing the opening for Rahab's thread of the story. I've got a list of characters, short, with which to spend my time. A couple names have to be hammered a bit more to bring them to fruition. I'm working out the story's metaphysics. Sunday, I think, will be a good day to sit down at the Machine and make a real, solid thrust into the story's structure.

I'm tempted to buy various coloured pens to make a diagram of the story. That seemed to help in Short Fiction Techniques class, way back.

Last night was the bickersome Bent Mast. Tonight is probably Koto with Vicki and the Accomplice, which means a negitoro don. Fatty tuna makes me happy.

No, I'm not naming a character "Fatty Tuna."

No.

Well. Maybe.