Marc
Redux: adj. Brought back; returned. Used postpositively.
I'm going to get a bunch of shit for this.
North Fell is kind of back. Kind of. I think I'm going to try and do different things on that site, maybe. It's not so much a secret any more, which is fine. It never really was in the first place. I've just been feeling like writing a lot lately, and I've honestly got no place else to put it, so there it goes. Make fun of me if you want, and I'm sure most of you will. But, know this: that was my one and only secret BLARG, thankyouverymuch. I didn't horde the blogspot files indefinitely and post on a different page a night, just to spread my evil genius around the web. Not true. Two, I know it's kind of sappy at times. So what? So f'in what? We can't be happy all the time, right? And finally, I think I'd like to do things in a different way over there now, like maybe work on something before I post it, instead of simply writing in the box and hitting publish afterwards. I've got a few stories that I've workshopped that I'll probably put up after I revise them, and some other stuff from last year, and I'm even contemplating trying to write something like a 1,000 words a day during my Christmas break, which is kind of a rip off of that NaNoWriMo idea. But I maintain that there's no way in hell I could do that during the month of November, no matter how old I get. Too much work to do. December, though, is a different story. No job. Nothing to do. It's cold outside. Me read, me write. End of story.
Maybe not so much with the pictures any more, either. I don't have a scanner, and I don't envision ever buying one as I'm kind of sitting on my hands right now waiting for someone else to get home to drive me over to go pick up my car at the shop. Blown #3 cylinder, shitty spark plugs, new battery. My car is not a piece of shit. Turns out that the lady I bought it off of (aka - My Mom) never got a cylinder tune-up and hence the blow out. Besides that, though, the guy said everything looked fine, which is a testament to how trustworthy this automotive specialist is. We brought my old mini-van, license plate read "KID VAN 1", to him in 00 just before the first StraightLeggedKick tour to get everything checked out, and to make sure that, well, would everything hold up all the way from Chicago to New Hampshire and back? Turns out that the answer was no, cause before we even brought it to the guy, something crapped out. Fix that, put in a new battery, and suddenly something else crapped out. Now, the guy could've been a choad and told us that about a billion things had to be fixed before he'd let me take it anywhere, but he didn't. He honestly, and I respect him for this, gave us a list of things that were necessary, which only totalled like two maybe three items, and stuff that we could (read: would never) fix in time. We knew the thing was on it's downward slope anyways, so we didn't bother, and I'm glad, cause three months later I'm driving down the Illinois interstates in the rain, and I lost power. Piece of shit collapsed just after I got off the exit ramp, and I've never looked back.
This Honda's got to last me for at least fifteen more years. At least.
Redux: adj. Brought back; returned. Used postpositively.
I'm going to get a bunch of shit for this.
North Fell is kind of back. Kind of. I think I'm going to try and do different things on that site, maybe. It's not so much a secret any more, which is fine. It never really was in the first place. I've just been feeling like writing a lot lately, and I've honestly got no place else to put it, so there it goes. Make fun of me if you want, and I'm sure most of you will. But, know this: that was my one and only secret BLARG, thankyouverymuch. I didn't horde the blogspot files indefinitely and post on a different page a night, just to spread my evil genius around the web. Not true. Two, I know it's kind of sappy at times. So what? So f'in what? We can't be happy all the time, right? And finally, I think I'd like to do things in a different way over there now, like maybe work on something before I post it, instead of simply writing in the box and hitting publish afterwards. I've got a few stories that I've workshopped that I'll probably put up after I revise them, and some other stuff from last year, and I'm even contemplating trying to write something like a 1,000 words a day during my Christmas break, which is kind of a rip off of that NaNoWriMo idea. But I maintain that there's no way in hell I could do that during the month of November, no matter how old I get. Too much work to do. December, though, is a different story. No job. Nothing to do. It's cold outside. Me read, me write. End of story.
Maybe not so much with the pictures any more, either. I don't have a scanner, and I don't envision ever buying one as I'm kind of sitting on my hands right now waiting for someone else to get home to drive me over to go pick up my car at the shop. Blown #3 cylinder, shitty spark plugs, new battery. My car is not a piece of shit. Turns out that the lady I bought it off of (aka - My Mom) never got a cylinder tune-up and hence the blow out. Besides that, though, the guy said everything looked fine, which is a testament to how trustworthy this automotive specialist is. We brought my old mini-van, license plate read "KID VAN 1", to him in 00 just before the first StraightLeggedKick tour to get everything checked out, and to make sure that, well, would everything hold up all the way from Chicago to New Hampshire and back? Turns out that the answer was no, cause before we even brought it to the guy, something crapped out. Fix that, put in a new battery, and suddenly something else crapped out. Now, the guy could've been a choad and told us that about a billion things had to be fixed before he'd let me take it anywhere, but he didn't. He honestly, and I respect him for this, gave us a list of things that were necessary, which only totalled like two maybe three items, and stuff that we could (read: would never) fix in time. We knew the thing was on it's downward slope anyways, so we didn't bother, and I'm glad, cause three months later I'm driving down the Illinois interstates in the rain, and I lost power. Piece of shit collapsed just after I got off the exit ramp, and I've never looked back.
This Honda's got to last me for at least fifteen more years. At least.
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