It's not the writing per se that bothers me, it's the venue, the sedentarinous, the insularity. If only there were a more public, a more athletic, more agonistic way of doing it. What do you think I'd rather be doing right now: sitting in this book-lined atelier, stroking my chin, lost in this solitary reverie or striding into a domed stadium with a bag full of laptops, wearing a shirt emblazoned with logos -- Apple, Microsoft Word, Xerox, Roget's Thesaurus, Chivas Regal, Marlboro, Zoloft -- and going head-to-head against the world's top-ranked professional prose stylists, as 75,000 raucous, beer-swilling fans cheer our sentences as they instantly appear on the huge Diamond Vision screens?
- Mark Leyner, The Tetherballs of Bougainville

"Writing through October"
About a week ago, realizing that I've completely failed to get back into the swing of blogging, I decided that I would endeavor to write a post-a-day for the entire month of October.

Of course, a week ago, I was quite convinced that I'd be all moved out of the Spider-Hole by September 30th, which proved not to be the case. So when the First came and went, I told myself that I'd just skip Sundays, like Lent, you know? I mean, if God takes off Sundays, who am I to work, right?

Then I missed yesterday because I was busy chopping up my love seat and illicitly dumping it in Hackensack and totally blew it.

So I've taken some time to reassess, and this is the new plan:

I vow to write 27.6 entries on this blog before All Saints Day.

It should be fun.

See you tomorrow.