All this stuff came to me, in the shower.  Let's see if typing will stroke the stream of consciousness that I was grooving on.

I finished Crazy Cock.  It was a totally unique experience. The writing went from patchy narrative,  -

Ok, while I was writing this, the bastard fuckers that have been hassling Alden since first grade, threw a bunch of rocks at the house.  This, on the heels of the eggs, and the rocks from earlier today, and the fact that they've been circling around almost daily now, catching him out, and calling him names.  I heard the impact, CHUNK CHUNK CHUNK hitting all around the living room window that I sit closest to.  I called out, "they're hitting the house again." and Irv ran out the door, and caught them. He chased them down the street.  He saw them, Kenny Harrigan and Corey Thompson, leaving on their bikes.  They hit the house earlier today, but we didn't catch them.  They were outside our yard at 9:30 pm, yesterday, while Jake and Janae were over, and they harassed Alden as he was walking the dogs.  Ugh.  I'm husked out. A police officer came, took a report.  Supposedly they're bringing the kids into custody.  All my well composed thoughts pewfed out of my head at the sound of those rocks hitting the house.

I was writing about the book.

I planned on addressing the vibe in the house.

I felt pained at owing everyone stuff because they're doing me favors by coddling me with this foot thing.



My stomach is in knots, big soft revolving lumpy knots.  Our pizza arrived while the officer was here taking our statement, and we sat down to eat after everything was over. I couldn't eat.  I feel like shit.  I have been running around, while the cop was here, without my boot on, and I actually walked around the house barefoot, in the rain.  It's never hurt worse than it has tonight.  I took a Tylenol 3.  Maybe I'll salvage those thoughts.