Death to the Drive

It's already been a while, and I'm afraid the while will not end for, well, a while. My hard drive crashed and burned. Died. Disintegrated. Ashes to ashes. And everything that was on it went right the hell with it: my thesis (I have an electronic copy); my papers from New School (I have some hard copies); my music (I have it on my iPod); my pictures (I have only the ones on my picture sites; the other 750 or so -- gone). I won't have my computer back until probably the end of next week. But perhaps this is a good thing. It will give me a chance to stay off the Internet, which is distracting. It will give me time to think about my latest rejection, that from the anthology of stories on the mixed-race experience in the United States. I knew I couldn't write fiction. So I will be thinking then, of what it is I can write. Maybe I will read more. Or even go to bed at a decent hour. And by the time I get my computer back, I should have some good stories. I've actually not been doing much. Just letting this new space wash over me. Aside from that, there's not much else to impart, except for the effects of this new space. But I'm not sure I'm aware of those yet. So I am announcing a blog break. If I have a chance to write something. But I doubt I'll be around a computer as cool as mine or one that is in a good enough space to write. So when I'm back up at home, I'll be back up on the blog. Till then, well, whatever.