No Footprints On The Sand

The reason for that being the girlfriend and I were feeling slightly cabin feverish, and so went out for a walk on the beach just in time to catch the sunrise. Naturally, we intepreted it in two radically different ways. She was just happy that it was the two of us on a relatively empty beach with the sky being lit up in the rosey hues of dawn, a clean stretch of sand ahead of us with nary a footprint to be seen. I preferred to think of it as we were the last human beings on Earth, the wreckage of various freighters strewn across the water as their crew horribly died of radiation poisoning, while the sky slowly burned with the radiation of North Korean Nuclear missile attacks that had started a nuclear conflagration around the region.

When she pointed out that the freighters still had their lights happily glowing away, I wittily responded, “Shuuuuuuut uuuuuuup!”

Not my most eloquent moment, I grant you.

We also saw a huge group of elderly Chinese people out for their daily bout of Matrix Calisthenics, ie, Tai Chi. The lingering after-effects of GTA: Vice City still held a firm grip on me and I once more, ’cause this is the kind’a romantic guy I am, felt compelled to romantically declare that it would be neat to wander into the middle of them with a molotov cocktail. I love the smell of burning geriatric in the mornin’… to paraphrase Apocalypse Now.

Which led to breakfast at the golden arches, chasing after stupid cats that wouldn’t let me pet them, and finally back here, where I have put away a few more pages of Serial Jen and bumped it up to six. Not bad for a few hours work. I’m pretty pleased with that. As usual, the characters have taken a life of their own and are probably not going to do what I tell them to. One of these days I need to write a story with an S & M masochist character so at least she’ll just say to me, “Tell me what to do, Master…”

That was supposed to be whole point of being a writer, that control thing. Man, even my characters don’t give me no respect…