So. The literary world. My pal Dave's analysis is spot on. Nobody understands what's next, or even what's happening now. They are indeed like deer caught in the headlights, mesmerized by their oncoming demise. The old system broke down, and there's no new system to take its place.

He asks what they do all day. I have no idea. Face it - publishing types never worked that hard to begin with, and now all they seem to do is sit around worrying about their jobs and saying no to authors and agents.

Although the situation is all but hopeless, I am eager to get back to my novel. There is just so much crap getting in the way. I'm still trying to get my study organized, but I can only do so much at a time. Then I fall asleep. And the sciatica just gets worse and worse by the day. I feel crippled. I am crippled. If I could just cop some really good pain relievers at least I'd be high and crippled.

People tell me to blog in order to get recognized. But if I blogged about what I  am really thinking about during the day I'd turn away readers rather than attract them. I might also get arrested. Which I could then blog about!

Life is a vicious circus.