Making Coffee in The Dungeon

     I just got back home, and made some clam chowder, along with some hot coffee.
     Anyway, that transgender person at the cafe was a pain in the ass today.  I was trying to write, and he/she kept gabbing about politics and whatever came to his/her mind, and it was really annoying.  A lot of his/her stuff was ridden with nervousness, anger, and strife, and no matter that he/she looks feminine, the testosterone is still there, as is the male frame, and his/her pain becomes my burden.
     I was just trying to write at the cafe, but he/she needed a lot of attention from strangers.
     I would have moved, but there was no where to move to in that front room, and I don't like the back room.  The internet signal is weak back there, and I can't keep an eye on my stuff when I am outside smoking a cigarette.

     So, what happens when anyone imposes themselves onto me unasked for is I take a bit of their soul and put it into my writing.
     This person definitely had some excess to get rid of.
     He/she should take a yoga class and just chill out.
     Even little noises he/she would make seemed designed to draw attention to him/herself.

     The more I ignore people, the more they want attention from me is what happens.

     Anyway, I am here now.
     I haven't decided on whether or not I am going to have another Babylon 5 marathon, though that sounds to me like it would be fun.

     Time goes by fast.  I'm still getting my day started, and it is almost 5:00 p.m.

     Writing takes a long time, and is a big time consumer just to generate the words for a first draft of anything.  Then there is the reading of it later, making minor corrections if need be, and then there is a reading of it after that, and additions, and rewrites, and it is all a pain in the ass to try and make it good.  Plus, when you write it, there is an invisible audience that isn't there when you write it, but it may be there months from now when people actually bother to read it.
     At least it is better than my shit sitting in a milk crate box for years with no one knowing it exists.  I have a lot of those kinds of pages, with writing so unbearably bad that even I can't even read it.

     That is just how it goes.

     I worked on my 'Space Journey Battles' blog, and that worked out pretty good, except for the person interrupting my scene.  Fuck him/her.  He/she didn't seem to care that he/she was interrupting me, so I might as well talk smack, but I would rather not think of him/her at all to be honest.  I am trying to purge it from my mind, and dispose of the echo in my head from its rattling from a voice that was part male and part female and part whatever else.

     Anyway, while I was making coffee, I thought of 'My Birth' in comic book form.  I've done it before, I ought to do it again.  I also thought of The Planet Koonis, which is a planet my brother Mike came up with when we were kids.  I have wondered ever since what kind of fucked up things must be there.  I know there must be some kind of aliens there, and I imagine that they might be a little goony.

     Every now and then, my thoughts return to the dungeon in my mind.  There still hasn't been a good movie just about four guys going into a dungeon.  Movie people don't take D & D stuff seriously, and I don't see why not.  It's what the fans want if they can do it right, but, they can't.  It's impossible, because they don't know the material well enough.
     The fans who know what they are doing are going to have to make some videos of dungeon stuff some day, and show Hollywood how it is done.

     Anyway, I'm just here, and we'll see what happens.