I forgot to order the decaf.
Very jittery, having issues writing a complete sentence.
I had to compose a letter for work today. Knowing how much I like to write, you'd think it wouldn't be drudgery. Pressure does funny things. After procrastinating as hard as I could, I found when I sat down that I actually enjoyed it. I am asking the Powers for a mere $100,000. I have a hard time concieving of that sort of money and I am afraid that they will probably turn us down. Hope springs eternal. We go through this ridiculous grind every year.
The last time I wrote a letter asking for money, I got it. (to the scholarship committee, explaining why I should still get the dough even though my grades dipped below the standard). Somehow, optimism doesn't seem to be in order right now. The Powers are dealing with a 1.5 million dollar shortfall. Even by Pennie standards, that is a lot of money.
I sat in a cafe for a while this afternoon drawing more Sub. It feels really good. I have been having guilt about being one of those comic writers who only very indirectly deals with real, autobiographical events. Not to say that the Submarine is completely unrelated to my life (I think half of its appeal is the mystery of figuring out what the "symbols" mean-- assuming there is appeal). I drew an event that really happened to me, so, dear readers, you can look for it in the next issue (assuming that it makes the final cut).