In the past week I've written one and a half stories. It would have been two but I got sick and the thing happened with my second cousin and I didn't feel like doing anything.
One story is called "Invasion of the Geoducks."
It's about neoconservatives.
Another story is called "I Am Taken Care Of."
My face feels hollowed out and dry on the inside. I took too much cough medicine last night, then fell asleep unexpectedly on the couch of a very good friend, who was nice enough to take care of me and tolerate my odd questions/statements (then recite them to me in the morning). I slept nine hours or so. I dreamed I was drooling on everything.