killing millions

Final draft was sent into my publishers.

So, that's that. I hope people like it.

It feels so weird to go into work and not be able to talk to guests about their problems.

I am so glad that I never got into Lost. Life is damn confusing enough.

Triangle Enrichment is now open in NYC! Well, er, at least the building is ready to go. Still have a few things to work out. Premature proclamation. Sorry.

I am so excited to own something in Manhattan! Something helpful and useful and other things that end with -ful, except for suckful. It will not be suckful. I haven't been there in months! I hope it hasn't changed too much.

My dear sweet Lucy, you can quit your job any time now! :D

My head is killing me and I am going deaf!

Oh, God's clearly punishing me for writing this book. He must be more into thrillers. He strikes me as a thriller guy. All that creating and then smiting shit. I've pissed off God.

I spent an hour trying to describe the way the clouds looked outside, above the mountains today. An hour. I timed myself, even though I didn't really need to. Why is it that describing things that have actually happened is so easy for me, yet describing the same type of stuff, only imaginary, is damn near impossible? Describing landscapes is something out of Writing 101 and I just suck.

[Private to Lucy Aldrige & Stephanie Aldri LaRue]

You don't have to worry about me becoming revirginized anymore.

[/Private]


( Private to Self )


I hope, for my readers' sake, and mine, that the fiction I think up is half as good as the reality going on in my life.

I'm catching a flight home to Vegas late tonight. Sis gave me permission, so I can return earlier than expected! Not that this mansion has not been beautiful and comfortable, but I get so LONELY. Plus, I miss my best friend. It's hard to enjoy a mansion when you're lonely and missing someone. I can't even write a decent chapter anymore.

So I am Vegas bound and I am bringing Cogsy with me! I will only give him back for leftover cupcakes!

Shit.

Paul and I went on a date, for coffee at Starbucks, last night and ALL he wanted to talk about was drugs. What I had been through, how I got clean, which ones I took, whether or not I relapsed. I know that he used to use 'em too, but god. I don't want to date a reporter.

He's not a reporter. He's a wannabe indie film-maker who works at Mt. Rainier, in the information center. But he acts like a reporter when he's with me.

Guess I should talk to him about this. But I don't want to hurt his feelings.


...Also, I think I need to have Ramses sent here. I miss him.

I've got a date for the wedding! Now I don't have to cry into my sparkling cider all night.

I'm going to be in Seattle, WA for my sister's wedding, starting tomorrow. I just might make an appearance at the Barnes & Noble at Pacific Place, 600 Pine St, Suite 107 in Pike's Place sometime while I'm there. Not officially or anything. I won't be book touring until the next book I publish, but, y'know, if you've been wanting to talk with me, I plan to stop by there.

It's my birthday and I'll get a dog if I want to,
get a dog if I want to,
get a dog if I want to...

As a birthday gift to myself, I adopted a retired helper dog today. He's five years old. His former owner, the one who needed help, died recently. She was 87, I think. But he's a beautiful golden retriever. His name was originally Remy, but I'm calling him Ramses now.

( Just look at him! )

It was a pretty good first day of the new year.