Friday Five

I've not played Friday Five in a while, and I wanted to this morning. Imagine my dismay when there was no Friday Five. What a bunch of crap.

By way of Second Breakfast we find out that there are surrogate questions from the Farm Accident Digest:

1. Are you now or have you ever been a communist?

Two, three times. At parties and stuff. I got introduced to it by this guy named Vlad, he kept saying "try it...you'll like it...." And you know what? It makes me feel all warm inside....kind of a red glow.

I made my self stop pretty early on when I couldn't sleep, one night, and I said you know, being a communist would help me sleep....but I got scared that if I was a communist right then, I'd never be able to sleep again without being a communist. So I just quit, cold turkey.

2a. If you could be a tree, any tree, which tree would you be?

This is a hard question. There's one thing to consider. Do I get to be sentient as a tree? Or do I have to be plain old stupid silent and barely alive tree?

Sentient tree: One of the palm trees in Jack Murphy Stadium (I will not call it whatever corporate name they want me to call it) in San Diego. Because the weather's alright, and I get to watch baseball 80-90 times a year, depending on whether they make the playoffs.

Non-Sentient tree: I dunno. A dogwood. Because then I'd be pretty.

2b. Which would you not be?

Apple Tree. Because I absolutely hate it when people pick shit off of me and eat it.

3. What's 2+2?

A math problem, it would appear.

4. How would you describe your novel?

Taut. Just because I like that word.

You want more? Pushy, ain't ya?

It's kind of an adaptation/re-working Faulkner's The Sound and the Fury. It takes place on a distant planet in the year 2294, and instead of Benji being retarded, he's a space dragon who communicates via sense of smell. And Jason gets killed early on, by space raiders who take offense to his exaggerated sense of entitlement. And in my story, Quentin eats so much that he weighs like 900 pounds. Pretty much the only thing's the same is all the sex Candace has, and how worried about it everybody else seems to be.

5. How much time did you waste writing all this up?

Ten minutes. That I'll never, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever get back.