live from the overlook hotel

now playing: jimmy neutron on the TV a few feet away

i'm clicking and clicking away on the book, and am overcome by an almost uncontrollable urge to lapse into repeating, over and over, into wordpad:

all work and no play makes jack a dull boy
all work and no play makes jack a dull boy
all work and no play makes jack a dull boy
all work and no play makes jack a dull boy
all work and no play makes jack a dull boy
all work and no play makes jack...

it's all this friggin' nickolodeon. that's gotta be it. either that, or god is givin' my karma the smackdown for being lazy in coming up with a name for my main character.

somewhere, at some point, i'm supremely confident that someone has written an entire nanowrimo tome that repeats the above sentences to the power of fifty thousand.

i'm finding that i've given almost no thought to the flow of this thing...it's spilling out and jumping from timeframe to timeframe, all over the place, and i don't rightly know where this is going, other than what it is that i want to say by telling this story in the first place.