- LIES: a Gone Novel.  Sounds kind of self-contradictory, doesn’t it?  Is it a Gone novel?  Nah, man, that’s all lies.

- A moral question.  I want to use some lyrics from Hollywood Undead in LIES: a Gone Novel.  The lyrics I’d use are G-rated.  But the song has some R-rated language.  And the album and band are definitely kind of dark.  So.  Can I use the lyrics in good conscience?  Or not?

- So here’s what I did today:  got my Toyota out of a box.  Before we went to Italy we had two rather large and thus inappropriate-for-Italy cars.  We sold them both and bought a RAV4, because Italian roads could handle it.  So when we returned to the US of OC we shipped the RAV back in a container.  There ensued a bureaucratic runaround courtesy of the US customs service that made Italian customs look like a model of efficiency.  Customs fee to get the RAV into Italy?  1 Euro.  Customs fee to bring it back? $3,000.  Yeah, God bless America.  Plus they didn’t even notice the suitcase nuke I’d stashed under the passenger seat.  

- Conscience?  Yeah, good one, Michael.

- Want proof that Microsoft is pitiful?  Here you go.  They have Songsmith.  Apple has Sting giving guitar lessons. 

- So, I did a phone interview with The Bookseller which is the UK counterpart to Publishers Weekly.  I come off sounding mentally impaired.  But it’s cool, because a lot of readers will think “Wow, it’s so cool that a high-functioning idiot can write a whole book.”  I’ll get pity readers.  Fine by me, as long as they spend their $17.99 (or in UK currency, three pounds, sixpence, a piece of eight, four shillings, two quatloos and a Cool Ranch Dorito.)  

- Is “The Giving Tree” the most obnoxious kid’s book ever written?  Guilt much?  If I tried that crap on my kids Julia would punch me and Jake would delete all my emails.  I give and I give and I give to you kids and this is the thanks I get?  Waaah.  Shut up, your kids don’t owe you anything:  it was your choice to conceive or adopt them. 

- The sad, secret pain of the speculative fiction writer:  I came up with an idea that some friends ran with.  I was just mouthing off, inventing, wargaming, writing.  They’re going to make nine figures.  Maybe they’ll toss me a bone.  You know, Arthur C. Clarke came up with the idea for the communications satellite.  I doubt COMSAT pays him a royalty.

- I have no time to read right now, and anyway I have books piled up, but I bought Dennis Lehane’s latest because he’s Lehane.  The guy can write.  He’s one of the guys who makes me wonder: could I do that?  

- My weakness is food.  I hate it when I put on weight, but I do it anyway.  Like a drunk with booze.  At one point many years ago, I hit 270.  I went on Atkins and dropped to 235.  Since then it’s been a back-and-forth war between 240 and 250.  I haven’t gone all the way back up, but I can’t hold onto the low number.  Two people I know well are recovered alcoholics.  Their ability to stay sober leaves me awestruck.

- I live just a few miles from Hollywood and I have all sorts of story ideas I don’t have time to write.  Some would make pretty good movies.  So what’s my hesitation?  I can get in to see a Hollywood agent.  Why don’t I?

- Apropos of Southern California, I’m not sure I’ll ever move away from the area.  I’ve lived in, like, a hundred places.  I was born here, in LA, but spent very little time here.  And yet, now that I’m here I have that creepy (for me) feeling that I don’t really want to relocate any time soon.  This is disturbing to me.  The OC?  Really?

- The Deal.  Still not done.  Always takes longer than I think it should.  The Deal hangs in the air over my head.  As long as The Deal isn’t done I can’t organize my life.  I hate deals.  I like writing.  Deal or No Deal, I mostly don’t care, except that I need to know what to think about.  Thinking is all I have to offer.  (Well, plus some two-fingered typing.)  Projects line up in my brain like planes waiting to take off at JFK.  Am I taking off, or should I pull back to the gate?  I hate sitting here on the runway because I have plenty of other planes ready to take off and life is short, kids, so I hate having my time wasted, I hate not knowing what I should be thinking about as I fall asleep.

- Which is what I’m about to do.