I actually wrote this post a couple weeks ago. Ever feel like this? I was a little embarrassed, so I didn't post it. And now I have to do a ton of work and can't think of any other thoughts today, so you get this one, LOL.
You cannot fully understand my mood unless you close all your windows, lock your doors, and put Carmina Burana on your stereo.
And you still cannot fully understand my mood until you turn the BIG stereo you have with BIG speakers on and put the volume at MAX, and then put O Fortuna on and put it on repeat for hours and hours and turn out all the lights and lay flat on your back with the wooden floor vibrating from the music.
It's not loud enough until the music rattles your windows and shakes your bones.
I have decided I am going to go ahead with the one-sentence novel and I'm going to title it Give Me A Break: A Novel.
Or would that be a memoir?
I want to write something terribly dark and tragic. My writing keeps getting darker, but I keep holding back (or changing it) for the happy ending. I feel like letting it all go and writing something completely, indulgently, brutally tragic.
I want to write one big, long, self-indulgent, 200,000-word darling.
Sometimes I feel like I keep trying harder and harder for whatever, and the harder I try, the bigger a hole I dig myself. I'm not quite sure what to do. If the universe wants me to do something else that much, fine, no problem. Just send me an email stating exactly what you would have me do so I don't get confused. Is that too much to ask?
PS: I have no explanation for the triumphant trumpets blaring in Major at the end except perhaps the sheer achievement of making it through the most melodramatic piece ever composed.
PPS: I've always been fond of cheese, in all its form. The former postscript is not meant to be construed as an apology.