Get Behind the Wheel, and Let's Go

Here's the theory: If what's inside is a lot of wank, then what comes out will be wank as well. And you can dress it up with big word and clever phrases, obscure it all you like, but underneath all the perfume and frills, it's still wank. It stares out at you, its whining, petty little heart beating fast. Unmistakable.
I mention this only to point out that each time I sit down to write in here, several thoughts jump up that compel me to spew endless amounts of the stuff. Write something good. Something thoughtful. Witty and enlightening. Please them. Please them. Sadly, this was your life.
Blogs written under that ridiculous mentality are no fun to read, and even less fun to have written and then have to look at after the fact.
So. I try to clear my mind of shoulds, desired results/etc, and just sit down with an open, clear mind and write a new blog for you.
Naturally, in the interim between now and my last, a number of blogs have died in utero. Last week I rode to Freds and picked up a lovely 23 lb. pumpkin from their massive cardboard bins. When I got it home I logged into the Homestar stencils page, printed one out, and went to work.
Here is what I came out with:


















I experienced a simple sort of joy doing this. It seems clichéd to say, but it's true: I felt like I was young again. The wonderful sticky guts. The seeds set aside to dry. Endless scooping. Time for your lobotomy, Jack! Every second of it filled with delight.


There were others, but they are lost. Onwards.
I have letters to write, and, in two days, a novel to begin. Yes, NaNoWriMo is upon us once again. We are all waiting with bated breath, runners awaiting the gun. This year is going to be another experiment in sheer manic rambling and stupidity; I don't have a plot, characters or anything. Only a desperate sense of determination: I must succeed, and go forth despite it all. It's terrifying having no idea what to write about, but I'm trying to see it as liberating rather than daunting. It will be a brilliant experience, that much I know. It is like nothing else; the frenzy, the giddiness, and the glow that comes from it are invaluable. Nothing else comes close. A month of stubborn ramblings and digressions. I will give free reign to my tangential mind; set it loose upon the blank, um, Word Document. Fuck writing this thing by hand. And while I may not be so wonderfully coherent and articulate as, say, Eddie Izzard in my bounding free associations, I will still have fun.

So in honor of Nanowrimo, here are a few songs. For my fellow writer-types, let these serve as a bit of a send-off, and for the rest, simply enjoy. Music is endless, it belongs to no one and everyone. And it can mean something different to everyone. That's the beauty of it. Jeff Buckley once said, when asked what he hoped people would get from his music, "whatever they want, you know... whatever you like."

So wish us luck.

Godspeed You Black Emperor! - Storm
The Long Winters - Pushover
The Red Paintings - Walls (Alternative Ending)
Clap Your Hands Say Yeah - Details of the War
Tom Waits - Tango 'Til They're Sore
Christian Kiefer - Stumble