Hangnails and chainsaws. Men and power toys. Boys and bombs and London’s burning! White riot, wanna riot of my own. Are we moving forward? Well, regardless, “this is your life and it’s ending one minute at a time.” No time to look over my shoulder. Watched Fight Club with Junior. Two things; he needs to learn to fight, (defend himself) and Tyler Durden’s Project Mayhem mission was moot but prescient. The banks and corporations blew themselves up. Imploded from greed. I loved Norton’s voice-over narration and Junior relished Tyler driving golf balls into a ravaged urban wasteland. My boy’s a great kid but I can’t lure him from his lair. We on the other hand were renegades; drove ourselves out and everywhere, into the big city for rock concerts, often drunk, (no I’m not condoning drinking and driving, narrowly escaping doom via car accident unlike many unlucky teens) partied hearty every day, and night, smoking heaps of ganja, dropping acid, fucking anything that moved. We were bored. To death. Junior is not bored. Needs no riot of his own. He is the bomb, brilliant, at gaming, video, all things techno but I worry. He needs to toughen up. He got interested in boxing so we set up the gear and he uses it. Sort of. Everybody needs to pack on some muscle. Kick ass. Well, he’s definitely his own man, got the good-looking part down and rocks a golf course like no one. He’s learning to drive, got his first job and hitting the road for the Pax gaming festival in Seattle. I’m just marveling at our different lives, adolescences, experiences. I’m some weird hybrid, he’s a digital native.

“Hey, you created me. I didn’t create some loser alter-ego to make myself feel better. Take some responsibility!” Indeed. Working hard on the book. Excited, entrusted with the greatest task of all; telling the story. Without flinching. Big perk; the assholes in my life have been reduced to fodder. Entertaining fodder. Voice. Number one concern, always my main vehicle, workhorse. It’s as true to Fiona as she is to herself and I strongly believe there is more truth in fiction.  Fiona is indomitable, finding her way as is this story. We never give up. Never stop seeking. Know how to fight. Another perk; dread is whittled down along with the manuscript. Oh, and there aren’t enough words in this fucking language.