Or bats in my belfry.  Amounts to the same thing, I suppose, minus Jack Nicholson and Michael Keaton.  I get the urge to write something, and that's when my cats decide it's the right time to jump on my writing desk, swat all the papers with their tales...err tails, stand in front of my monitor, … Continue reading Cats on my Keyboard

Yeah, yeah, yeah. It's not a word. But it's also not untrue (see what I did there?). As I type this, I'm six months into my quest to find a literary agent.  This is an incredibly lonely process, mainly because I don't stalk agents, or read their blogs, or go to writer conventions, or follow … Continue reading Unblogging

I'm that Tired Guy, lost amidst a maelstrom of emotions, swept away by sorrow, mourning the loss, the hurt, the anguish.  I'm that Tired Guy, feeling empty, drowning in bewilderment, wondering what and why and who. From nbcnews.com: "Two bombs exploded at the finish line of the Boston Marathon on Monday, killing two people, including … Continue reading 26.2

I'm that Tired Guy, the one drinking water with no lemon.  I'm that Tired Guy, collaborating, vacillating, hallucinating, communicating, excavating, fabricating, emulating, reinstating, equivocating, aggravating, liberating, reinstating, deviating, mediating, wri...ting. [Cue the "Brooks Was Here" track from the excellent film The Shawshank Redemption.  I'm in one of THOSE moods tonight.] On February 10th, 2013 Peter … Continue reading The Geometry of Mr. D.