I've been having lots of novel-like fantasies at work lately. Not as in "fantasies that are new", but as in "fantasies that could be novels." Exept that I get all excited about them while I'm at work, then I come home and write them out and I can't get myself to focus on them anymore after that initial 24 hour period. Then I think up a new one the next day. I guess that's why there aren't more novelists in the world.

One was to move back home and start Bladen county's first bar/music venue. Except that I went online and read the town charter and it's illegal to serve alcohol of any kind in an establishment that doesn't also serve full meals. It's also illegal for women to show any part of their areola, so I guess I can't get Bitch and Animal to play in my club. Sad. They wouldn't come to Bladen county anyway. But this is supposed to be a hypothetical, fictional situation.

The other one was that The DJ graduated from UNCA and decided to start a radio station in northwestern Wyoming, near Teton. He wanted me to come work there, oddly enough. Or rather, a character I would create that would seem eerily similar to me. And one that would seem eerily similar to him, too.

I guess these aren't really ideas for the next Great American Novel as such, they're more like daydreams from someone who exercises her hands more than her brains at work. It's weird that once I write them down, they disappear. No shellacking the cobwebs, it seems.