I am typing this in my new apartment. Had everything gone according to plan today, I would have been typing this in my old house. I had planned to drive back to my old house by now to do more packing and get some writing done. I am only half moved out. I am missing my bookcase, my desk, my chair, my air conditioner, and tons of random shit.
I slept in my new apartment last night, but I did not get a good sleep. I am not sure if I got any sleep. So I am in my new apartment, in case I need to take a nap, since my mattress is here. This is the second time I slept here. I slept better the first time, but not that much better. I have trouble sleeping in places that aren't my room, or places that aren't my old room. I still haven't decided which side of the mattress I prefer to sleep on.
I hate being tired, so I am drinking a can of coke. I hope I do not wake up to regret this. I will probably drive back to my old place soon since I am getting caffeinated.
I just got back from walking to a convenience store. It is very close by. This is nice. A nearby 24 hour corner store is essential to having a decent apartment. They have decent pre-made sandwiches and their own brand of ice cream that is on par with Ben and Jerry's. It belongs to a chain of gas station/convenience stores. It is referred to by Cumby's by locals. There is one across from my work. There is one a couple of blocks from my old place. I have been eating their sandwiches a lot, ever since I switched over to a "staying up all night" schedule.
My new apartment is nice. It is very run-down. It is relatively clean. It's cleanliness contrasts with its run-down-ness. Except the kitchen is pretty disgusting. I am ok with this. My last kitchen was pretty disgusting. And I don't know how to cook. I just know how to heat things up.
My room is clean. It has a hard wood floor. My old room had some sort of unfinished looking floor. I am pretty sure it was a magnet that was disguised to resemble a floor, a magnet that attracted dust and dirt and wasn't happy about letting its adopted children get taken away by things like vacuum cleaners and brooms.
My apartment is located in a building that is located in a complex. There are four apartments per building (or maybe eight apartments, but for of them are not connected to mine via a hallway/stairs. I don't know. I haven't paid attention to things like this yet). I saw one of my customers at my gas station working on his car outside my building this morning. He is a very friendly guy. I talked to him a while ago about being stressed about having to find a new place to live. He mentioned his own apartment. It is a coincidence that he lives in my building. I cannot remember his name now. I am terrible with names.
I finished editing my book, Disappointing Sophomoric Effort, last night. I thought I was finished editing the contents a while ago, but then I sat on it for a while, so I felt that it needed another ending since so much time has passed and I'm about to submit it for publication. I stole the title from a novel that I wrote in a month which was truly my second novel. I feel that I can only use the title for the next book that gets published. If the new Disappointing Sophomoric Effort gets published after another book, I will need to change the title. If it gets published after another book, that other book will be called Disappointing Sophomoric Effort. Well, unless the publisher really hates the name. If the publisher of my next book really hates the name, then the name will be lost in the wind and I would also encourage authors to use the title for their second book. But until the publisher hates the name, please do not do this.
I also have a short story collection that I have been sitting on for a long time: "My Heart Said No, But the Camera Crew Said Yes!" I don't know where to send it. Short story collections are a hard sell. Short story collections with writing that is not that accessible because it requires an active reader rather than a passive reader are a hard sell. Short story collections that cannot be categorized as literary fiction are a hard sell. Short story collections that cannot be categorized as genre fiction are a hard sell. Short story collections that are the size of a novella (maybe 30,000 words) are a hard sell.
I do not want to add any more stories to it.
I know of a bunch of publishers that might be into it if they weren't only considering novels. They are only considering novels because short story collections do not sell well.
I was just sitting at my new kitchen table.
Now I am sitting on my bed. It is because my laptop battery was about to run out and I was too lazy to carry my AD adapter out of my room. I dislike my laptop battery. It lasts for like half an hour.
I finished the first draft of my Nick Cave story two days ago. This was my goal for the four nights in a row that I have/had off. I have accomplished my goal. I do not know if I like the story. It might be good. The plot is slight and it is total violent mayhem. I do not think I am a fan of total violent mayhem.
I am going to write part two of the post that I did last week and drive to my old house. I do not think I will post part 2.