Cuts

In the light of the laptop, there is a gigantic eyeball. It belongs to a chihuahua.

The laptop is the only light in the room. The dog is trying to get my attention. She looks pitiful. The cats are wrestling. I'm not sure where they are. But I hear them and hope they don't break anything.

I started, watched, and finished Two-Lane Blacktop. Such are the days when I need to make this clear. The colors and the dialogue fit in nicely with the world of Gringos. I hope some people reading this will track the film down. It's a fantastic movie.

Jess visited a friend after work and got snowed in, so I've had the place to myself, or at least I did after the Dufflebag went to bed. No writing, yet, but why not? Sure, I'll do it. Give me a minute.

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I turned off the t.v., but I'm listening to the Allison Anders/Monte Hellman commentary track.

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I couldn't find the safety unit for my mandoline. I julienned daikon radish and cut myself three times. The last one cut into my thumb. After the radish, I moved on to hot peppers, and some of the membrane must have gotten stuck between the wound and the remaining fingernail, because it has yet to stop stinging.

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Ok. Iron rule. Got to write each day. Half an hour until midnight. Let's see what we can do.