(no subject)

So I'm reading along in this bit of a story that's been recommended highly to me and I start to notice that the person who wrote it is kind of a callow idiot. She's describing this character as being pale skinned, with blue eyes and blond hair -- and this is proof that she's not Italian, like the main character's father. And because the main character has an Italian father, it's surprising that he blushes. And there's a completely stupid subplot about the evil anti-war protestors in their ugly shabby clothes who threaten this guy because he is the son of a defense contractor (the afore-mentioned pale lady who can't possibly be Italian, and who incidentally is therefore a cold, conniving bitch).

And this -- well, I shouldn't complain, should I? Because it's the done thing to make your masculine lead be an ex-soldier from the Iraq War, to endow him with preternatural muscles and a big cock. It's tiresome, but I can't fault any one writer for it.

On another front: you know what's better than ice cream? Whipped cream and fruit, or jam, or chestnut puree. Also easier not to go too far overboard because it's more remarkable food so you don't lose track so easy.

State of the knee: well, generally getting better, I guess. But it's slower than that and I keep having multiple-hamster-wheel relapses. And walking for half an hour is about my limit.

State of the novel: I gather that I'm pretty reluctant to write the need fire scene. Is this because it's really, really dumb? Or because it's Too Awesome and I Mustn't Screw It Up? Or because I'm cold and distracted?

Sop I'll go do that right now.

Favorite singers of the hour: Laura Lavric and Mioara Velicu

I cannot reconstruct the path that led me to Laura Lavric and Mioara Velicu. I don't understand even a shred of Moldovan, so I have no idea if there's an ideological or moral land mine hiding in this stuff, but I love the way they sound and the energy of their performances.

edit: I just figured out that the male singer on a couple of the records that we dance to Friday nights is actually Mioara Velicu after all.

more words, still not at the scene I'm trudging towards

I think I must dread what's coming up more than Yanek does, and I know he's going to come through it with no harm or injury.

Anyway, 1.5 K words today, including some things I didn't know about before I wrote them. And now the damned dog is barking her fool head off.

edit: it took me four hours to write that 1.5 K words. Considering that at my fastest, it's more like 2K an hour . . .