wildcat

More and more of the Magnificent Bastards moving away from Victoria to escape bone-crushing ruts.

The phrase, "You Magnificent Bastard," seems to be a quote from Patton, not that I ever saw the movie. I maintain I got it from some other, unknowable source.

Writing last night did not feel productive, it felt destructive, all my thoughts came out as point form notes toward future stories. Instead of trying to produce something new tonight I'm going to edit the shit out of "The Awkward Haunting of Holland Birmingham," based on J's suggestions. Tomorrow is my day off and I can do some more work in the morning while I bake Irish soda bread.

I'm about fifty pages into Pynchon's Against the Day, reading it in slow chunks, enjoying it, enjoying the weirdness and the straight-up dime novel genre flourishes. It starts off with boy aviators aboard a zeppelin, on their way to the Chicago World's Fair following bizarre "Boy's Own Adventure" stories. They dissolve into depravity and noir. It's good.

I am made of points of light.