In which I live-blog my continuing procrastination

9:14 p.m.: I'm here, wherever this is, ensconced in my tiny faux-Victorian room overlooking an impressive-looking river. I have wireless, but no phone except roaming. I have water, and yogurt, and snacky Gardettos, and cigarettes, and music. I have 17 pages that need to become 10, and if they could cohere at some point, that would be great, too.

Thanks for the good thoughts and cheerleading. I'll keep y'all posted.

9:56: Ok, earlier there was some kind of air-raid siren, and just now there was some kind of explosion outside that sounded not really like fireworks. Where the hell am I?

I'm now up to 19 pages. This is not the direction I'm supposed to be headed in.

10:51: Holding steady at 16 pages. It seems that I'm writing just as much as I'm cutting. Need diet Coke. Must put pants on.

12:21: Things were weird out there. The QuickyMart had, in its array of bottled iced teas, extra-sweet tea. Apparently I'm in the south.

But now I've read Carl what I have, and pieces are sliding into place. Kind of. Down to 10 pages. We may be in the home stretch.

12:45: Done! No, really! I think it might actually be good! Yay me!

1:18: Final update. Wow, had I only read my horoscope for this week before I sunk into crazyland:

Sometimes, Virgo, you're too damn smart for your own good. You may describe a problem so brilliantly, for instance, that you think you've solved it merely by talking about it, and never get around to actually fixing it. On other occasions your fine mind runs amuck in an orgy of razor-sharp analysis, cutting things apart in order to understand them but not putting them back together again. I beg you not to indulge in these excesses during the coming week. Your intelligence will be soaring beyond even its usual exceptional levels, and it would be a shame for you not to capitalize on it momentously. (Free Will Astrology)

Next up, then, capitalizing on my enormous, exceptional brain.