We could pretend that everyone here wants peace, but where is the fun in that. If one person wants peace and the rest all want to swing socks full of pennies into each others kneecaps, that is less fun than many things, but more fun than everyone wanting peace, or if everyone wants peace but one person, then that can be greatly fun than a whole mess of things, like wombats (wombats being the most fun animal to occur to me as I am writing this).
The funnest example of having a room full of people who all want peace is to have a small group who doesn't want peace actually, and then one or two other people who through both guile and simple apathy pretend to want peace, but are totally willing for their own amusement to foment further and increasingly vehement non-peace in the argument between the peace-seekers and the non-peaceful.
I fall into this later category, and do so in the hope the peaceful will violently pursue their goal of peace, and the violent will prove cowardly and untoward in their attitudes towards upheaval. Yes, this is the kind of person I am.
Put that in your guitar and plunk it. I've been reading Fictionaut lately, and Warren Ellis' column at Bleeding Cool, Do Anything.
Ben McCool's mercenary ramblings strike somerthing we have attempted all so often, working at the dayjob. Becacuse they are two different things. A job is fuckall of the highest order, something we do to ourselves, inflict on ourselves, sometimes as he says, so that we can force ourselves to be a little more invested in the work we do. Work therefore is something we give a fuck about.
I'm on page 96 (including endnotes) of Infinite Jest. I made a new playlist for the working a couple nights back. I called it Floorshows. I'll make another today called Floorshoes. This is how I am. New York Dolls feature heavily.
I'm working on my novel, really, except for yesterday which was a fuck of a day. Worst Saturday in quite some time. I would have rather been at the dayjob.