So last night, the magic show came to an end.  I think it went well.  The audience responded and laughed at the places that we wanted them to (and even gasped at a place where we weren’t expecting it).  Though Nick did a silly thing with a lit match, he managed to finish the performance without engulfing himself in flames.

 

…all that, and I got to write in a joke about the Reagan bust and one about C3PO’s genitals.  So all in all, I’m satisfied.

And it looks like Nick and I will be performing a bit of our magic act at a berlesque show, in Chicago, come May (and we get paid…to perform with berlesque performers!).
 

We had planned to drink heavily after the show, but went out to eat with the parents, and it was late by the time we got back and we were too exhausted to really go seek out fellow revelers on campus.

 

After a hectic week, I took my prize of a free Sunday and slept a lot of it away.  The only other objectives were to go see V fro Vendetta, grab some Taco Bell, and drink lots of rum while watching Adult Swim.  I accomplished all of those goals . . . and on my day off to.

 

Tomorrow, I think, I’ll head to a book store, drink some coffee, and start figuring out this White Wolf novel (finally!) – not to mention figure out what I’m going to say for my 15 minute speech at the Writer’s banquet on Tuesday.  I’m nervous.  I have no problem performing or reading stories to an audience, but speeches still give me butterflies (only they have bat wings and red eyes).  On top of that, I found out that a Pulitzer Prize winning author is going to be speaking at the same event.  Yikes!  I feel like a kid with a kazoo opening for the Rolling Stones . . .

 

That’s all for now.  I have other thoughts and feelings I want to put down . . . but I’m tired and they escape me.

Well, the first night of the magic show is over…and it went pretty damn well. It’s amazing how things can suddenly come together in the final couple days. We got the laughs and reactions we wanted, and a full house. One more show to go! Then, I can rest, briefly, my weary mind. I think I’m going to drink tomorrow. ALOT. I think Nick will be off elsewhere. Who in the Eureka area would like to drink with me? I want to relax.

And if you haven’t seen the show…come on down! We’ve got flying snakes, psychic vultures, and floating audience members.

Well…by now, my (and Nick’s) half-naked likeness is pasted up all over the campus…

OK. I’m spent. I’m going to get my first sleep since Wednesday night/Thursday morning. Today put some kind of nasty spasm in my neck, it’s shooting from my neck into my brain. Ah! My kingdom for a neck rub. I’ll trade neck rubs. I’ll give ‘em on a 3:1 ratio.

Ah well.

Advil then sleep.

Thanks for all the opinions on the quote and that story.

The book is just about up to 350 pages.

All work and no play and no sleep make Josh . . . 

Hey all.

 

I need a literary opinion or two.  Read the short below (it’s very short) and tell me which of the two quotes you’d rather see at the top (or no quote).  One is Shakespeare and the other is The Smashing Pumpkins.  Keep in mind that this is part of a book that mixes culture and pop culture references with little care, so I’ve had both types of quotes before and after this chapter – thus I don’t need the choice doesn’t need to be based either on my looking for literary merit (the Shakespeare quote) or fresh, youthful lyrics (the pumpkins) as I have both in other portions of the book.  Choose strictly on content (or vote for no quote…sometimes they gum up the works).

 

Interlude:  Picture Game

 

“Good wombs have borne bad sons.”

-Shakespeare, The Tempest, I.ii 119

 

“The killer in me is the killer in you.”

-The Smashing Pumpkins, “Disarm”

 

 

“Pick out the serial killer,” said the FBI Profiling Professor.  “Which of these things doesn’t belong here?”

 

Eager students examined the old, black and white photograph with the pensive, intense looks they thought suitable for a master investigator.

 

Three children from years ago:  a boy, a girl, an infant.

 

Boy.

 

Girl.

 

Infant.

 

They examined the toys, the expressions, the close, looking for the shadow threads that connected the puzzle in grotesque lines and clinical symmetry.

 

“Which one of these children grew up to be a killer?”

 

Boy.

 

Girl.

 

Infant.

 

“I . . . I can’t tell,” said a student, breaking under the teacher’s weighty gaze.

 

“That’s right, you can’t tell.”

 

“Here’s a health to the company and one to my lass
Let us drink and be merry all out of one glass
Let us drink and be merry, all grief to refrain
For we may and might never all meet here again”
            -Traditional Irish/Scottish drinking song

 

 

Writing, writing, writing.  How did the stars align to allow a magic show and two novels at the same time!!!

 

OK, it’s time to put rum in my coffee.

 

Oh Captian, my Captain!

 

So, I can’t be out drinking green, stale beer.  But I am listening to some Irish drinking songs on my computer.

 

And…I am wearing green . . .

Everyone have fun on St. Patty’s.

 

I’ll be inside writing 😦

 

I’m not Irish anyway…I guess.  I have some Brit blood…so if anyone wants to bomb me, I guess that’d be appropriate.  At least now I’ll have some company, since I typed in “bomb” (that’s twice now) I’m sure I’ll be under some sort of surveillance.

 

My plan is to write all night.  Finish the second draft of my thesis monster.  Finish up the script for the magic show.  Print and mail the thesis.  Then, drive straight to Eureka for the show tomorrow (and then a week of preparing the magic show), forgetting sleep, as I think a couple hours nap will just make it worse.

 

I ride the hills of caffeine, laughing mad, hoping I don’t hit bottom before I’m done . . .

I might treat myself to some rum before the night is done.

OK…so the hair stylist hacked off a ton of my hair (it wasn’t really her fault…I just asked for more than I realized).  And because I never know what I’m asking for when I get a hair cut, never know things like what the effects of my genetically inherited too-too thick hair will do when it’s shorter, I ended up with this prince-valiant-helmet sort of a head and I didn’t know whether I looked like some goofy prince…or an Emo-lesbian with a beard.

 

So I did what any self-respecting adult does . . . I visited my Mommy and begged her to make it better.  She thinned it out at parts and layered it in others so the helmet affect is gone and it is, though much shorter, much improved.  I had a few pics snapped quick before I left for the night . . .

Oh and Steve put the finishing touches on the poster.  Now it has all the info squared away, it’s in high resolution for printing, and the Devil now speaks.  

CHECK IT OUT HERE

OH….I was, I was sleeping. Thank God. I had this horrible dream that I had several inches of my hair hacked off and . . . wait a second . . . no . . . oh please . . .

NOOOOOOOOOO! 

This is an accurate depction of how I feel at the moment…