Ah, here’s the new entry, although I’ve nothing much to discuss, honestly. Without Beijing to feed me abnormal experience, I’m forced to generate it on my own. I turned 30 recently, but I kept it under my hat. It was a mistake in hindsight, if only because I missed out on what could have been a stripper-riffic trip down to Providence. Like skipping your bar-mitzvoh, really; it’s worth doing for the pinball machine and the Porche.

The day itself fell on a Thursday, so I had dinner with my folks and grandmother. By the time we got back from the restaurant (a very disappointing Blue Ginger- I’ll be posting about my twin dinner disappointments in the next entry), we were full and tired, and I therefore had the unique privilege of eating the entirety of my own 30th birthday cake by myself over the course of the next week. This typifies my birthday experiences- somehow, although I generally welcome growing older, I usually manage to deflate the celebration itself.

Yisroel ben Eliezer was onto something when he made celebration sacred to the Hasids.  They don’t seem to have taken it to heart, though

I landed in LA two weeks ago, and spent time with friend before flying home.  I was struck by the beauty of California- even with all the drag-strip minimall architecture, and the highway culture, I found it to be a lovely place.  Although I kept expecting it to “look like the movies”, which it never actually did.  There were too many ugly people, too much detail, in fact- films are so physically passive, maybe there’s no way to get that experience when you’re walking around the set.  Maybe I’ll move out there sometime.  I’m thinking about an apartment swap to test the waters sometime after the winter.

Since then, I’ve been suspended, feet off the ground, at my folk’s place, but I’ve finally gotten back into my apartment, and I’m scrambling to get back in the swing.  Beijing was very productive for me, and Boston’s so far proved very unproductive.  I lack an office over here- in China, I had the Tube Station.  I need to find a very isolated place that serves coffee that doesn’t object to me sitting there 9-5.  Which, I suppose, means that I need to find a real office.

True Grounds, over in Ball Square, has 75% of what I need…  It’s not far enough away, I suppose.  Part of what helped me out the last two months in the Northern Capital was that I needed to actually get on my bike and ride a couple miles.  Exercise, like drawing and writing, is its own kind of thinking.

I’ve got to write about forty pages this weekend, by the way, for grad school.  So maybe I should just stop writing this stuff and get on with the work.  I’ll probably pick out a section to post on the main site soon, to give people a sense of what I’m working on.

Well, in ~36 hours, I’ll be embarking on the 3 day novel writing contest. On the one hand, what was I thinking? On the other, of course, if nothing else, it’ll make a nice link to add to the rather sparse Writing page I’ve set up.  Got to get it through the contest before I can post it online, though.

Here’s a basic conflict I face- what should I put up on my website. I’m not a professional, like, say, Kelly Link or Cory Doctorow, two writers who’ve literally given away their works online. But I am a writer, and I’d like to get paid someday.

Here’s the catch, as I understand it. When I put a story up on the web, it is thereafter tainted in the eyes of publishers, and no longer considered for magazine distribution. But, especially considering the eccentric nature of my work (ask me about Dr. Strawberry, if you don’t already know) I could wait, literally, my entire life to get published. So do I sit on my stories, hoping they’ll get legit treatment, or do I just slap ‘em up on the web for all to see? I’m splitting the difference now, but that’s hardly a satisfying solution.

We should have such problems, eh?