Send PDF of The Nightly Disease to Chinese agent requesting to check it out on behalf of one of her clients. Try not to get my hopes up. Try not to wonder why anybody would give a shit about some dumb thing I wrote while very sleepy. Consider contacting other foreign publishers and throwing my book at them. Wonder why I don’t have an agent. Consider setting myself on fire.
Write blog post about The Nightly Disease being officially available since it’s been out for, like, two weeks now and I haven’t said shit about it on this blog, except for right now, but this doesn’t count because nobody should be reading this list but me, hence why I’m posting it publicly instead of privately.
Continue working on Week 1’s story for the Story-a-Week challenge.
Begin edits on novella written by author I cannot reveal yet for a collection PMMP’s publishing sometime in early 2018.
Continue edits on Betty Rocksteady’s novella.
Continue not giving a shit about the point of doing things and continue just doing them because I fucking want to because that should be enough it needs to be enough it is enough and if anybody ever tries telling you or me differently burn their house down you burn it down and you make them eat the ashes of all their possessions and the ashes of their family
Enthusiastically reject the desire to edit punctuation into the last section.
Continue listening to Ramshackle Glory’s Die the Nightmare (or is that Live the Dream?)
Scream the sentence “ALL COPS ARE BASTARDS” over and over until I lose my voice.
Eat healthy. Stay moving when I’m not typing or shitting or sleeping or dying.
Contemplate pitch idea for a 33 1/3 book. Modest Mouse’s The Lonesome Crowded West? Well, no shit.
Only sleep the bare minimum necessary to prevent an automobile accident.