Nearly Spring

We've been having a string of lovely weather. The snow and ice in the backyard is nearly gone and I walked around at lunchtime today with my coat off. I'm looking forward to the time when this is a more permanent state.

I've heard from neither of my submissions yet. Or from my application, for that matter. There is still time for all of it, and things are percolating, even if I haven't managed to get much out on paper lately. But I'm caught up on many things, so I'm not at a complete loss.

I was going to walk up to the shopping center after work and see if I could buy tracing paper, but there was a shooting there last night and I'm still a bit wigged out.

I finished Prague by Arthur Phillips a couple of days ago. It was decent, but not wonderful, and it left me cold. Maybe I'm not cynical enough to be a true member of Generation X, and I can't see that I mind much. The characters have the opportunity to spend time living abroad and all they really do is complain about their middle to upper-middle class lots in life. There were a few images I enjoyed, but for the most part it just felt like another thirty-something ex-pat hipster trying to be Hemingway. How about we stop trying to be Hemingway and start trying to be authentic, for once. Is that too much to ask?

Meanwhile, I'm having trouble being anything associated with writing at all, and it's getting tiresome. I keep thinking that one of these days I'll spring back into action, but if one of these days doesn't come along soon, I don't know what I'll do.