I fell on my bike. Ow.
I should not have been wearing shorts. Right leg from ankle to calf: flayed. I don't particularly like the sight of blood, especially my own. Doc says I don't need a skin graft—good, because I cannot afford new skin at the moment.
Speaking of bare, glistening flesh, I found this early draft of a cover for Meat Men lurking around on my hard drive. Rejected for goriness but I still kind of like it.
Banged out the first 2000 words of the new werewolf novel yesterday. Going well.