As I'm back to getting nowhere in AnotherFictionThing (intended to be part of either PRESS (A) 02 or 03) , I've instituted a one-page handwritten goal for each workday: at least there will be that (and these) to show that it wasn't all for naught – even if naught is all that comes.

Hoping, though, that it turns out like METROID DREAD did last night: after facing the invisible scorpion beast for more than a few days of profanity and victory snatched, I allowed myself one final evening of fighting and failing, after which I would put the game away and revisit afresh at some point in the unknown future when I could give myself entirely to METROID’s particular needs of timing and ability – but, in what was to be my final endrun, everything clicked and I slayed that fucker and scored the Phantom Cloak. VICTORY.

Then, at least – but not this morning; still, one page is nearly written – and this is.