psychotronic

All right, so Oolong is history. I got my mom to send me some photos. The one I have up now is still going have to be a temporary placeholder, though. I had to crop it weird so it wouldn't have my ex in it. But I just don't have any others that I like. I'm so happy in this one. On Tuesday, I'm having my friend (the girl who was in the picture, actually, who I'm still friends with) take some new ones. And if none of THOSE turn out, I'm going up to Vancouver for a few days this week, and my friend THERE can take a few more. I'm positive I'll have something to work with. Then I can maybe put the uncropped version of this photo in my whats-it-called folder here, because it's so freakin' cute, and because I harbor no ill will towards the person I cropped out of it.

Meanwhile, I have no reason to complain about my progress in the big script. It takes me all day to start writing, but once I do, I seem to be able to get a few good lines down before my beloved ADHD kicks in and I have to do something else. A glass or two of wine before I start helps. Tonight, I've decided on a 2004 Australian Yellow Tail Shiraz that I got for six bucks at the QFC, so that's some quality writing fuel, there. The path of the drunkard screenwriter is well-trod, I think, so I don't feel so lonely tonight. It's hell trying to type without making thousands of typos, though.

Anyway, yeah, I'm driving up to Vancouver on Wednesday. My big, boisterous, almost criminally outgoing yet manic-depressive friend lives there, and it should be a lovely time. It might even get my mind off the fact that my mother is coming to stay with me on Sunday. But it won't, quite. The fact will be lingering around in the back of my skull like a viper with a grudge.

Cheers,
Tobin