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 |  probably stuff i think is funny. or aggravating. or both. |
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| okay, look. i'm lazy. got it? that's what it is. i have urges to write these damnable stories, and the time, the chunks of privacy, the groovy tunes to keep me company...but i can't...make...myself...buckle the FRICK down. here i am, not concentrating. lookit that, folks. it's the stupendous vaccuum!! watch her suck an entire galaxy into her entropic maw!!! dammit dammit dammit dammit. dammit. get your hands off me, you damned dirty apes. (don't know where that came from.) *sigh* okay, i'm off to stare at the empty computer screen some more. wish me an embolism!! |
| good god! i forgot it was father's day!!! and you'll really hate me for this: my dad just had surgery a couple of weeks ago. so, now i'm the daughter who can't remember to tell her sick, debilitated pappy she loves him on his special day. i am so going to hell. of course, he does live about 1300 miles away. but, no. no. that's no excuse. i am a bad bad bad bad bad bad daughter. i need a spanking. wait. this is taking off in an entirely different, unwholesome direction. must go, and think about the thoughtlessness i forgot to consider today. damn. |
| i've been having a surreal conversation the past couple of days. maybe won't sound like much to other people, i dunno. but in my head, my brain's doing stuff. stuff it doesn't ordinarily do. i like it. this conversation started over a static item review, which is in a contest right now on this site. i received the pros, the cons, the usual. for some reason, instead of noting & promptly storing them away for that day i go back & work on these stories again (which, as yet, hasn't happened  ), with not much pondering or musing on them involved, i took her suggestions to heart, and answered this review. i've never done this, for fear of offending the nice people who extend themselves on my behalf (reviewers)--everyone, after all, is entitled to their opinion. i also wasn't sure if some person who didn't know me would be inclined to continue a review they thought was finished with a click of the 'send' button. not everybody wants an encounter session. but i jumped, i took the risk, because her suggestions wiggled into my brainy brain, like chiggers. not exactly pleasant, and the itching....god, the itching. but i have to say, the experience has been rewarding. and my committment to continuing my stories has been doubled (just have to find the frickin' time!), and my mind has been...affected. so, i thank her for that, the nice reviewer who went out of her way to talk to me about intangible & difficult-to-articulate ideas. i haven't written anything new since this conversation, but i already feel like a better writer. kudos, darlin. seriously. |
| so i sez to this customer today, i sez, "you, sir, look like the kind of person who'd appreciate this particular title."(it was playboy's last 50 years' worth of interviews, bound & printed.) and he says to me, "naw, i don't read. never finished a book in my life. not even in school." i'm left standing there, mouth agape. i'm fairly certain a fly or two buzzed through. jeebus. and this is not to judge. i know it sounds like i'm snapping to judgement over this man's life, his family, how he dresses himself in the morning & operates a vehicle. i'm sure he owns a house, and all that implies. it's just so...alien. what stimulus does this man get? if he watches tv--which i can only assume he does, considering the amount of free time he must have not reading--is 'the man show' the height his experience reaches? tarts jumping on tramps is entertaining any day of the week, but i don't mark it as the measure against which all other experiences are compared. i want to find this man! i want to follow him, peep through his windows, and spy on him at work! this is like discovering a new pygmy antelope--it probably just wanders about, flicking its tail like all the other antelopes, but...what if it doesn't?? what if it's performing convoluted discrete mathematics, as it munches its prairie grass? i gotta know!!! i'll be on the lookout, in case that guy comes back for more foghat. should be interesting.... |
| i've never been good at confrontation. i'm getting better, but i still..i still just don't go for the kill. i could win, sure. i could pulverize, shred, mince, and cheesegrater 'em like nobody's business. but i don't like to. i don't like how i feel afterwards, with the crying. especially if i'm not the one doing it. not to get all metaphysical on you, but here i go. i'm not religious. or spiritual, even. i have a good heart, and i sometimes even feel connected to humanity - usually after that pivotal moment in 'the iron giant' (you know the one, and how ironic is that?) - but most of the time, i feel that we're here to help each other out. regardless of our beliefs, our economics, or our geography, we're all we've got as a species. even if we discover hydrogen-based life on mars, someday, or are visited from farther away, they won't be family. distant cousins, maybe. so, to my larger point: i try not to fight with people. it's not worth the pain. mostly, in my experience, people who wanna cause trouble are either misguided, or idiots, and why would i want to give them that much attention? i'll wait until they grow up the rest of the way before i try again. which, really, is an optimistic way of looking at things. |
| this obsession, it's unhealthy. compulsive. i'm not flipping the light switch twenty-three times before scuffing my feet in the same pattern on the floor tiles every time i enter the room, but it is beginning to interfere with my daily life. *sigh* yeah. it's writing.com. help me. help me to accept this dark, moist underbelly i hesitate to admit i have. because it ain't goin' away. more to come, no doubt. |
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