I dare say this has been a productive evening. Since I got home, I've- in no particular order- almost finished A Scanner Darkly, cooked some tasty vittles, broken Critical Hits into rough chapters (23 of 'em, no less, though that little Erisian conceit will probably give way in the face of further editing), worked on my query letter, thought of an idea for a novel, drank a couple beers, smoked some cigarettes, and exchanged pleasantries with a Venezuelan comrade from the Southern Lord forum.

On top of all this, even the last hour of work was good, though I'm morally opposed to discussing either work or the reason for its decency- which, of course, had nothing to do with actual "work."

Someone needs to throw a party soon. A big one, with a good sound system and cold beer and room for me to get loaded and talk dames into dancin' to the Eagles of Death Metal. It's summertime, dudes! Someone get on it, chop fuckin' chop!