Four

I'm slowing down. My last four words: "Eh, I've lost it." By which I mean any focus on the story. I'm good for about seven hundred to a thousand words, and that's it. Then I'm just flinging words at random. Well, maybe that means I should write in two or three sessions. Of course, that's impossible, the ways my days go. So I don't know about this thing. Kind of not into it now.

Suddenly I'm blogging more. It's one of those things I am stingy with the permission for. I don't give myself permission for much. I'm allowing this more I guess because of the November thing and it provides a brief respite. But no, I could do a little of this every day all year.

Except it would be unutterably boring unless I actually wrote about my life. My life has unexpected turns every day, lots to do, much done, new worries, old concerns, you name it (just like everyone else, except now and then you notice that some people really do lead slow orderly lives). But I can't write about that. Never mind why. Maybe "can't" isn't the word.

Suddenly the nanowrimo.org word count thingie is working. Bravo.

Maybe as an experiment I should write something about real life, just to see what comes out.

Well, Jamil was an interesting guy. Didn't look it at first: Small and wiry, heavy accent, and we met under less than ideal circumstances. But in the thirty minute ride from his brother's friend's shop to the house, he talked a great deal about Muslims, about how you should avoid them if they read the Quran, about how the Quran says about anyone who doesn't believe in God, kill, kill! He was a Christian from Iraq and very devout and I must say, a more honest man than most I've met. He did a thing for me he probably couldn't afford and for which I had no legal recourse if he chose not to. He also apparently had experience with Americans freaking out a little bit when meeting an Iraqi Arab. I didn't, of course. I've had Iraqi friends, but that doesn't matter, I'm just not a dumbshit.

Hey, words! But these are words that have no place in the story. Possibly now, or after a little more of this, I could go back and write some more. But I need to go to bed, and for at least two very good reasons.