Articles from Cheeseburger Gothic
I've reached the point in this deadline where I can wrote or I can exercise but I cant do both. So I might be going backswards on my fitness over the next week.
Must stay away from the bakery.
Dropped 2.3 kgs in six days.
Still drank some beer and ate a lot of barbecue.
Body feels like I've been beaten with extension cords.
Part of my plan to drop about ten or twelve kilos while the ladies are away is to get more time in at the dojo. Traditional jujitsu is not the calorie furnace you get in the Brazilian offshoot, but it"ll do me. As I get older and the knees get creakier I find the ground-fighting harder.
By happy coincidence, however, I"m working through the second bar of my brown belt grading at the moment. Plenty of opportunity for burning off flab there.
Thomas and I had the ribtacular combo at Roddy's in West End last night. Also, the fiery chicken wings in lava sauce for starters.
We could do this because for the next three and a bit weeks we are Men Without Women. Jane and Anna are touring Italy in lieu of Schoolies Week.
I'm planning to finish The Cruel Stars and get moving for real on WW 3.1 and Girl in Time 2.
Having lain fallow for most of the year, I now find myself ready to do A LOT of work. The white board that hangs by my desk has a bunch of projects on on it, probably three years worth.
One is called EOW.
I think of it as my nod to The Stand, the book that got me into reading and, as it turned out, writing.
I should do a little gallery one day of all the art work I've had done for me by Will Heavey. I found him via 99 Designs and was so pleased with the early stuff he did for me that I just kept commissioning him. I should really get a few fallback designers for when he gets too busy and famous for me, but the whole process is so easy with Will that I can never quite bring myself to send the work anywhere else.
His latest cover is a great example.
I spent most of today reading the draft chapters of The Cruel Stars on Dropbox Paper. It had been so long since I'd been able to do any concentrated work on it that I thought I'd better familiarise myself with the story and characters again. I'm glad I did. I really like this story and hope it gets a chance to stretch its legs.
Yeah. I went there.
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone, prevent the Bunnies crying with a sexy saxophone. Silence the eight-track disco, and with a muffled drum, bring out the tiger fur-lined coffin, let the mourners come. Let the Playboy Jet circle overhead, scribbling on the sky the message, Hef is dead.
The alpha perv is no more.