I lie. Sometimes, I wish I could lie for a living.
I probably will be revisiting that last comic-book color piece. It just bugs the hell out of me. The problem is when and whether anything I will do to it will make it better.
Otherwise, I've been working on my lying. That is, I've been trying to write. Last night seemed productive to me. Things are beginning to line up in the direction of some sort of climax, which hopefully won't be too anti-climactic.
Today I was going to post about the Chinese Room, and why I believe the argument is bunk, but it turns out that Daniel Dennett had beaten me to it. Probably just as well.