Day 60 of 60

 Today I swore on Cthulhu's grave that I will leave my current day job in not less than 60 days. The count down begins, and I will update periodically on my progress. Sometimes things happen for me sooner if I simply declare an arbitrary deadline for it. It doesn't always work out, and this one is a big risky bet since I have NOTHING whatsoever lined up for when Day Zero arrives. But I can't continue like this much longer. I don't even WANT to resuscitate my former career, but I also can't abide the current situation any longer. I currently earn less money than I have at any point since I was 22 years old, and I have adapted to that reasonably well. So earning the same or more in a new situation shouldn't be that hard to come upon, but just earning a paycheck is not sufficient. I need to want to do whatever it is that I do to get that check.

Some juvenile fiction

 I think I'll occasionally publish or re-publish some of my juvenilia. The following (rather preposterous short story) was written shortly after my college days and appeared very briefly in a very tiny print run of a micro-press zine. It is an amazing artifact of data transfer and storage since it originated as a file created on a long-forgotten word processing program on one of the old pre-Windows PCs (you know, the black screen with a green blinking cursor and no graphics at all), then stored on a 5" disk and  transferred to the hard drive of an old Windows 3 PC (which had built into it the big old 5" disk drive as well as the 3 1/2" inch floppy drive--no CD yet). It was then converted into a Corell Word Perfect file and lived as such for a couple more years. Then I got a Windows 95 computer and MS Office, and moved the story by floppy disk from the old machine to the new one and converted it into an MS Word file. Then it moved, again by disk, to a Windows ME laptop, then  back to one and then another Windows 98 desktop PC. Finally, it moved by email and internet from the final PC into my MacBook. And now it goes to teh interweb... 

“A-OK”

Christopher Fletcher

I guess we are just standing around in Bryan’s parents’ living room waiting for someone to decide what we are going to do.  It’s one of those never-ending nights when we are all away from school on summer vacation.  It’s always like there isn’t a damned thing to do but we’re going to spend all night doing it anyway. 

Bryan still has Amy Colberg hanging just off his shoulder, for the second year running, smiling broadly at him every other second like he is the most beautiful thing ever made by the Universe.  I am kind of on my own as usual, and Bryan has invited into  the house some chick named Kayla or Layla or something like that, and some awkward, gawky guy named either Dirk or Dork.

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