Metaphysical Angst and other BS

I live in a brick rowhouse in lovely downtown Lawrence Park, a suburb subsidized entirely by GE (well at least it was back in the day). All the rowhouses are pretty much the same looking, with the only major difference being open porch vs. closed porch, duplex vs. quad. I have an open porch quad (middle) layout (in case you were wondering). These houses are damn nigh centenarians, and despite creaky floors, small kitchens, and "old man showers" in the basement, they're generally quite wonderful, especially in heat dissipation. Well, that is until the daily high temp breaks 90. And that's exactly what's happened the last few days. It's 22:00ish now and 86 outside and 85 inside, 80% humidity on both sides. In short, summer in Erie sucks. I'd much rather be shivering in my attic office than sweating on my porch hoping that 1. my laptop doesn't overheat 2. I don't get eaten alive by bugs and 3. that sometime before I go to sleep it'll cool down a little bit somewhere.

Of course, all of this heat comes at a pretty rotten time. I'm two arms deep in ECE, and it's starting to stink. By stink, I mean rot. By rot I mean that I'm currently writing the third draft of my first draft. WHAT?! Yes, that's right. It all came about because I have this wonderful talent, see. I can read a book with intent to write on it, then I can read supporting books, one after another, for weeks. This ability allows me to think of all kinds of wonderful connections, explanations, and beautifully tight critical prose. BUT. This ability manifests in logorrhea. Basically, it's a left handed skill that allows me to talk about things in a manner that is logical to me...not anyone else. Also this process tends to lend itself to considerable over-writing. Packet 1's response told me that 1. I have 4 ECE topics worth of ambition started, and 2. None of what I'm writing would make any sense to the average reader of an ECE.

So draft 1, revision 2 began, and fortunately died at only 4 pages (Draft 1 v1, was fifteen before it got shot down). Rev 2 died thanks to a lot of good conversation with Sue. She made me consider the "Why" of everything in a much more logical manner than I was able to conceptualize under my own left-handedness.

In short, instead of writing about how Postmodern literary theory operates to create a layered ontology within Ben Marcus' Age of Wire and String, I'm writing Why Marcus needed to make an ontology, and how it relates to the reader in a meaningful way--it's really almost the same thing, but not at all...

I do miss writing fiction.

Angst. Angst.

P.S. We went to my mom's today to escape into some AC, and got to see the original "Sweet Dreams" music video along with other 80s music videos on the magical Cable TV box. Someday, maybe I too can join the modern world and have cable channels other than Discovery. Maybe even a tv with a remote... Nah. Bitching about such lack is much more fun.