Zombies, Marathons, and the usual.

As I write this, the view out my window is steadily filling up with folks from all over the continent -- most of them already happily intoxicated -- who are here to watch the Boston Marathon.  The same Boston Marathon that happens to weave right past my building.  Thus, with thousands of runners darting past the front of my building and dozens of people relieving themselves in the alley out back, I'll probably be confined to my apartment for most of the day.  If you haven't had the fortune of watching the Boston Marathon before, try to do so one of these years.  My dad ran it a few years back, and it's one of the most inspiring things I've ever seen.  Practically the whole city shuts down (which is why I'm presently at home instead of at work), and fans happily cheer on everybody.  No matter how awful your running form or how slow your time is, the roar of the crowd is thunderous for every runner.  For some reason it brings to mind stories I've heard about the free-loving 60's, but I could be wrong.

This week has been pretty good for writing.  I worked past a descriptive problem on a certain scene and after that the floodgates opened.  Inspiration is everywhere if one has the time to go out and see it.  Most of the things I saw in the past week are so silly that no one would believe them if I inserted them into a story.  For example, I was fortunate enough to witness a zombie outbreak last Tuesday.  Yes, a zombie outbreak.

One of my good friends from college has recently returned to Massachusetts for an internship at one of the city's hospitals, so I met up with her and another friend for some Thai food.  After work I rushed to get to the place on time, only to find that my other two friends were running a bit behind.  Deciding to take a short walk down Mass. Ave. and enjoy the weather, I was awaken from a daydream by blood.

A crowd of people, of twenty to thirty, were covered in blood and gashes.  Clothes torn and tattered, they shambled down the street, groaning with otherworldly agony.  I stopped in my tracks, immediately realizing the whole thing was staged but extremely amused nonetheless, and watched them shuffle past me.  Faces grey, eyes glazed, they barely paid me any heed.  One particularly tall zombie held up a cardboard sign that read "Uhhhh," which immediately caused me to burst into laughter.  They came upon a Wendy's fast food restaurant, and threw themselves against the storefront windows, moaning and mock-clawing at the glass.  People eating inside, still chewing on their meals, calmly snapped photos on their phones of this unique display.  The zombies quickly grew bored of terrorizing the Wendy's and continued on their way south down Mass. Ave.

When I told my friends this at dinner, they didn't believe me at first.  Oh well.  As a zombie fanboy, I was thrilled for days afterward.

I have been told numerous times recently by friends and family to start looking for an agent.  Y'know, what Jeremy Piven plays on "Entourage".  Despite my horrendous grammar, spelling, and punctuation, I'm much more familiar with the act of writing than I am with the world of publishing, agents, and self-advertising.  I've read and heard a lot of advice on the subject, but it's all so varied in content that it's difficult to retrieve any solid consistencies or plans of action.  I want to do some more research on the subjects so that I hopefully will have a better idea of what to do after Magic in Dogtown is completed.  Either way, you'll have a front seat and get to laugh at me floundering moronically about or see what actually works.  I'm hoping for the latter, but who knows?

Peace all, and again happy Marathon Monday.