cognitive disconnects

Last night I read the WORST story for workshop. Horrifying sentence structure, appalling grammar, no grasp of tense, tissue-paper plot and characters that were obviously cut out of a cereal box. I swear. Fifth graders write at least this well. (Yes, Kay, it's worse than the one I showed you. Much worse. Much, much worse.) I wanted to tear out my own eyeballs. I could honestly not think of a single nice thing to say about it, because 'I'm glad it wasn't longer' doesn't count. How this person got into this workshop is beyond the limited scope of my comprehension.

Sekrit message to kolys: You have to join the community, dear. You're not going to see much of anything that way, because it's locked, or most of it is. (Yes, I like to keep an eye on the membership list for tangentialcurve. I'm funny that way.)

I am tempted to actually write the second portion (the morning after) of the piece I wrote last night ... maybe later. After class. I don't want to go to class, but I don't see that I have a choice in the matter today. At least Himself is feeling better. Burnout has reared its ugly head.

My hair dye has shipped. I spent long enough ambivalent about the green that I totally changed my mind and went with cherry-red. Expect dubious cameraphone pictures sometime.

The weathermen are lying liars who lie when they tell lies.

I am out of pretentiously coloured and flavoured vitamin water. Damn.