NaNoWriMo Update No. 2. This the second update on my progress in the National Novel Writing Month Challenge. To review the rules: the goal is to cough up a 50,000+ word novel between November 1 and November 30, 2002. So far, twenty (20) days into the thing and I have 32,578 words. And I'm seriously blocking right now. With 10 days to go, and nothing but crap, I'm going to pull out some OULIPO techniques for generating raw text just to get me to the finish. It's like Gertrude Stein said about Oakland: there's no there there, and no story here. Just words at this point. 50,000 words of ... wack blah, blah, blah. There's a reason why I'm not a published writer, and it it's because my writing rhymes with something that sounds like ducks. « 6:34:35 PM »    

Nothing compares to The Play. ESPN.com - Ivan Maisel: "I have seen college football played indoors and out, in stadiums that no longer exist, in Honolulu and College Station and Blacksburg and Corvallis and points between. All of it amounts to a backyard game of touch compared to what I saw from the stands of Memorial Stadium in Strawberry Canyon twenty years ago today."

(2002 has been a bad season for Stanford Cardinal football. But it can all be redeemed with a nice big win up in Berzerkeley: Beat Cal (again)!

Update:
Cardinal Lose Big Game, Ax)
« 11:38:57 AM »    

'Scared' Iverson says Philly police are targeting him. ESPN.com - �I know that if there's a crooked cop out there, they could do anything to me. He could do anything. Allen Iverson could wind up dead tomorrow if a crooked cop wants him dead.�

(This is some really heavy sh*t for a superstar athlete to be saying, especially through the megaphone of the media. If a guy like Iverson, who can afford to insulate his life from all outside contact, feels this way, think about how your average brutha walking down the street feels. F*ck da police, comin' straight from da underground, young brutha got it bad cuz I'm brown, or sumthin' sumthin' like dat.) « 11:23:07 AM »