it is, what, 1:45 am and i just finished Shy, which is novel #19. i shouldn't be up this late, but when creativity strikes there's really not much you can do about it. ended at approximately 75,500 words [317 pages]. not quite as long as i would have liked, but sometimes the story goes where the story goes and you just have no control over it.

i'm supposed to be in south minneapolis by 9am to meet M & C. we're going to some neighborhood yard sale or something. i haven't had much interest in buying other people's crap since college, but you never know.

M & K took pity on me and came over tonight. we watched The Godfather, which i'd never seen before. i quite enjoyed the film, and all references to a severed horse head in bloody sheets make a lot more sense now. i guess sometimes you just have to get your point across...