Mesothelioma, Telepathy, Bomb Threats, But Really Nothing To Say

[mallorys_camera]

The crooked mesothelioma lawyers just LUV me – an unfortunate turn of events: I now have a dozen articles to write for them. I have upped my rates, of course. But writing these pieces still makes me feel vaguely… soiled. It’s odd – I’ve certainly done more than my fair share of Horrible Things over the course of a lifetime, but the only ones that ever make my conscience ping are those that involve disingenuous writing.

I also had a very long, labyrinthian dream about a phone bank that was actually a government-training institute for telepaths. Telepathy, you see, only works peripherally: you have to be focusing intently on something else to be open to emanations from other people’s minds, so giving these nascient telepaths a script to read over the phone, making them try to sell people vacation time shares in Florida while reading their thoughts, actually works very well. I was one of the telepaths, of course – not myself, a guy named Nick. Me-Nick was dissociated enough so that I had begun being able to read people’s minds even when I wasn’t on the phone with them – and this led to a subplot where I had picked up that one of the government supervisors was actually an Uzbekistan agent. Happened to be the supervisor I liked the best – we would have long conversations about Stanley Kubrick movies when I wasn’t on the phone – so I wasn’t quite sure what to do with the info.

It was quite the engaging dream, so I was very disappointed when I woke up to being me again.

Else?

I did some volunteer work at an RTT school event last night. Did not enjoy it. One of the gift certificates for the silent auction I was supervising apparently got swiped and though this is not my fault per se, I will probably make the difference up out of my own mostly empty pockets. This morning Tina, the principal, sent out an all-points bulletin that some kid apparently left a bomb threat on one of the school computers so today the Ithaca police force is down there full force with explosives-sniffing dogs. Sheesh.

I am going to try and write more here though as you can see, I have very little to say.

Comments

[justpat.livejournal.com]

How can you NOT turn that dream into a short story, novel, or screenplay?

[mallorys-camera.livejournal.com]

Ya think?

Hey I wanted to pick your brain about something else 'cause you have the Wired connection: I looked through the Wired archives but I couldn't see that they'd ever done a piece on those content brokers like textbroker, e-Copy etc. It would make a great story either as investigative journalism or from the "Confessions of a..." angle. Who and how would I pitch?

[alumiere.livejournal.com]

I concur on the dream. It would make for a brilliant film or book.