After an extensive interlude of writer’s block – two years, I believe –
I have begun the writing of my next novel. Something I am quite passionate
about. It concerns the wayward misfortunes of Ford Davis, a twenty-three year
old aspiring writer as he hitchhikes from a small southwest town to San Diego
and his quest for more lucrative opportunities and perhaps even the most
elusive, love. Occupied by awkward and mundane peoples during Ford's trek and set against the
backdrop of a country leaning towards the threat of atomic annihilation by
newly elected president, a former game show host/Chicago slum lord named Wink
Scottsdale, this new book is a somewhat dystopian tale with marginally homosexual
tendencies. The working title: The Algebra of Melancholy. I like it, it fits.
In further news: Six or seven years ago, I applied for admission into a
very modern apartment here in Tucson. Through mischance and various unfortunate
events, I thought I had lost it. Well, as I was checking my e-mails yesterday,
I received an invitation to rent at the very exclusive complex located in the
heart of downtown Tucson. I actually thought years ago the deal was botched,
but through a miracle of God (and really, that is exactly how I see it. Wouldn’t
you?) I am now attaining the paperwork for the admission interview next Wednesday
at 9am. Originally, I was simply passing through Tucson to return to Tijuana
and an unknown future. What does this mean? No more travelling, no more living
in junky ridden grottos mired in fear and debasement, no more uncertain days of
where am I heading or what am I doing.
Do not fret your little head none, Dear Reader, I will certainly
maintain this blog. It simply will be different. I will focus more on my
writing and thoughts and perhaps – perhaps – a little wayward absurdities here
and there.
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