i spent hours working on the story about how Margo loses her virginity and then i gave up, it’s just not clicking with me. it feels too forced. then i spent another hour trying to whip the three acts about the TTHM into something that wasn’t pathetically schmoopy, and that didn’t work.

so now, here i sit with my horribly disfigured face, with anita and the mall and the gas station attendant. she was calling to me tonight, apparently. i’ve rewritten large chunks of it, and i think i’m starting to like it again. of course that’ll probably change in another 15 minutes, but at this point, i really haven’t a choice.