Interlude: Weekend Randomosity

Day 49. 64 pages, 30,172 words.

Just a quick post for the weekend, nothing much to add right now and busy besides. I hope I’ll get some more actual writing done so I’ll finally do something meaningful with this stupid word count. I’m past my arbitrary one-third point on the day count I had for the first two books, so it looks like it will be even slower going until I can get back up to speed.

Still, I’ll keep counting. And I have a plan for the story I’m writing on the blog right now, it’s just taking a little while to get there and I’m not sure why the lead-up is dragging. Still, it’s a blog daily writing exercise so I guess it doesn’t need to be perfectly plotted and paced.

Maailma Kylässä was this weekend, I usually enjoy it but wasn’t not sure how much I’d be able to partake in the food and drinks this time around seeing as how I’m close to broke, again. At least for luxury items. As it happened, the whole weekend was rained out anyway so there was nothing much to do – we just hung out at home and watched movies and stuff, which was nice.

Still, I wouldn’t have minded going to Maailma Kylässä, just to enjoy the atmosphere, and pretend for a few moments that Finland isn’t becoming an increasingly isolationist and idiotic xenophobic mess, just like everywhere else.

Now, just to hammer the political point home, it’s EU Parliament elections today. Let’s see what a pack of foaming shitclowns Europe elects and what sort of damage it does. Mrs. Hatboy is working at the local voting site again, so I’ll be entertaining Wump and Toop (and Wally and Viggles for the morning at least). I hope the election turns out well but let’s be honest, our record hasn’t been good lately.

Oh well, what can one do except muddle through like a good little Mygonite?

About Hatboy

I’m not often driven to introspection or reflection, but the question does come up sometimes. The big question. So big, there’s just no containing it within the puny boundaries of a single set of punctuationary bookends. Who are these mysterious and unsung heroes of obscurity and shadow? What is their origin story? Do they have a prequel trilogy? What are their secret identities? What are their public identities, for that matter? What are their powers? Their abilities? Their haunted pasts and troubled futures? Their modus operandi? Where do they live anyway, and when? What do they do for a living? Do they really have these fantastical adventures, or is it a dazzlingly intellectual and overwrought metaphor? Or is it perhaps a smug and post-modern sort of metaphor? Is it a plain stupid metaphor, hedged around with thick wads of plausible deniability, a soap bubble of illusory plot dependent upon readers who don’t dare question it for fear of looking foolish? A flight of fancy, having dozed off in front of the television during an episode of something suitably spaceship-oriented? Do they have a quest, a handler, a mission statement, a department-level development objective in five stages? I am Hatboy.
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