• Rants

    we take an ass that doesn’t hurt for granted

    I fell the other night. Out of bed, apparently. I remember yelling — screaming maybe — something profound like, “Ow!”  And feeling like my body had been glued to the floor. And now, practically every movement I make with my ass (these are surprisingly numerous) hurts. I can’t help but think that it’s part of the Universe’s plan for me. Tilting on its axis suddenly and causing me to fall out of bed and break my ass. That’s it, isn’t it? I could also blame alcohol. Why not? My ass hurts when I breathe and I have to point the finger at somebody. And after all, coming home at night…

  • My Brain On Crack

    Catching up, or a post without segues.

    Some days I wish life was just a series of bullets:  you tick them off, one by one, boom boom boom.  And done.  Life should go that fast, that succinctly.  Plus you don’t have to provide continuity or a story arc with bullets.  You just write, bulletize, and go.  Done.  See? I’m in the edit mode for my first column at Literary Mama.  Real editing done by a real editor.  This is as close to the Big Time as I have yet come, and it oddly seems almost an anti-climax.  Printing and signing and sending the contract to Literary Mama, that’s when I felt like my life was changing, that…