My visits here seem to be few and far between these days; the good news is I'm spending about an hour a day running my ass ragged on a treadmill whilst watching OnDemand showings of the macabre Showtime series "Dexter" to which my friend Dave got me addicted. On top of that, Kaia and I are spending a load of time on the phone, as per usual, and since I've been going at top speed workwise now for the better part of the last couple weeks, there's been barely enough time for eating, sleeping and breathing beyond all that.
When I do manage to spend time in front of a non-work PC, it's more often than not me checking work e-mail or actually filling up pages for one of my current writing projects. Thus far, on my main project, I've got about 200 or so pages finished, yet every so often I need to step back and take a break. Invariably, I wind up buying some sort of ultra-violent game for the PC to bring me back to enjoying mindless, pointless, unrewarding and anti-social entertainment on the PC. It's basically my strategy on how to be "friends" with your PC, as it is with introducing kids to computers. If you start -- or, in my case, re-start -- with entertainment and don't look at a computer as some sort of work-related appliance, you're bound to be much more productive in your work-related endeavors thereon simply because you don't feel like you have to be chained to the PC.
As for the project, it's called "Identity Theft." It's not, however, relating directly to anything financial per se; it's a combination of political thriller, moral commentary and psychological exposition/self-examination. Essentially, it's going to feature lots of firepower and some flowers as well. For the most part, I generally don't divulge any real details of what I'm working on, not even with Kaia; however, in this case the impetus to get my ideas down on paper -- with respect to the project, I mean -- have bubbled to the surface much faster and in much clearer focus than most of the stuff I usually commit to e-paper while writing fiction.
Needless to say, now that I've gotten all that bullshit front and center and out of the way, I came across this nugget and could not resist addressing it on some level.
Would someone please tell Rosie O'Donnell to shut the hell up? Between her pathetic last stand -- Rosie's stint on The View skids to a halt next month -- and the recent sandbox-showdown (aka whose dick is bigger) conflagration with Donald Trump, I've heard far too much from Rosie D. More often than not, when I watch these types of public feuds, it's usually involving two quasi-intelligent combatants who are mostly ego. To wit, neither Alec Baldwin nor George Clooney are particularly irritating; on the contrary, I actually have regard for each of them as actors and, frankly, as people. But if I need to hear about the former's political aspirations or the latter's tsk-tsking on Darfur I'm gonna hurl.
I've addressed this in these pages before: when did actors and actresses become so important to our culture that we actually cared what they had to say where no script was involved? As an actor or actress, one's job is to gracefully and/or methodically speak other peoples' writings and thoughts. So what in that particular job description would fool one into believing his/her opinion is as valid as his/her ability to provoke and/or perform others' opinions?
Put another way, it sure didn't work out as planned for Tom Cruise or Mel Gibson.
But I digress.
Tomorrow morning, the sun will rise, I will (likely) go to work, there will be a massive exodus for Memorial Day from this great city, and Rosie O'Donnell will still be shooting off her mouth.
Nothing much has, or will, change.