It’s Like The Devil’s Doom

The original title of this post (when I started it in longhand back on Monday) was “Like a Language I Once Spoke With Ease”, yet another lyric snippet off the Indigo Girls’ Swamp Ophelia1. That was on Monday. On Tuesday, between writing sessions #1 and #2, the penguins got tired of an entire album’s being rotated on my mental stereo, yanked it, and put John Newman’s “Love Me Again” on repeat.2. It’s not budging, despite multiple meatspace plays, a round of The Backstreet Cure, and a re-watch of Edge of Tomorrow, which is where I first heard the song.

The only rationale I can think of for this is that I’ve been working through multiple romance arcs this week, all doomed, but some more than others.

My “standard” 45 minute writing sessions were anything but standard over the past four days. I grabbed 15 minute chunks at a time (occasionally 20, when I blew past the timer and just had to get something down before I forgot it) when I could grab it. Despite the destandardization, I managed to keep up with word count and still maintain a few points in my SAN pool.

Monday, November 9 – 1,942 (18,000)
“Where is she?”
“Over there.”
“I don’t see her.”
“She doesn’t want to see you.”

Tuesday, November 10 – 1,971 (19,971)
“You’ve done your job. Why are you still around?”

Wednesday, November 11 – 2,608 (22,579)
“Notice where we’re not.”

Thursday, November 12 – 1,861 (24,439)
“Glad the old man didn’t care.”
“Old man? Dad, he’s as old as you.”
“Then maybe I ain’t the same kind of glad now.”

1From “Language or The Kiss”.
2The post title is taken from a bad transcription of the song’s lyrics that I found on the IntarWeb. The actual snippet is is that what devils do?.

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