words are foreplay for the soul
November 21st, 2009

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 to find that my motorcycle had been kicked over for a 4th time had its effect on me. I called the police (“maybe it was the wind?”) and accepted the glass of passion fruit vodka that Matthew handed me. We watched an episode of House — always a good choice when you’re feeling vaguely misanthropic — and clinked sticky passion fruity glasses.

Hmm, misanthropy has its uses. Right now I am feeling untrusting. The rug has been pulled out from under me and I am pissed off. Out of the frying pan only to find out I never left it after all.

This post sounded a lot better in the shower 4 hours ago.

I am afraid and feel alone and there is no one who can help me. Even my ass is on vacation.

Note to Future Self: Do not get divorced from someone who subsequently will go to law school. Just don’t.

Note to Future Self Part Two: Stop being so damned idealistic. You know it gets you into trouble.

Note to Future Self Part Three: I have no other suggestions. You’re on your own from here on out.

September 29th, 2008

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 a huge shift was happening, that I was holding my breath and jumping off a high place into the unknown.  I am so much more than happy to be included among such a gifted group of writers, you have no idea.  And it will lead to more, more of what I’m still uncertain, but more. I’ll link when I go live.
  • I’m glad to be back writing more.  So many things I was just feeling and not expressing, and they’ve accumulated to the point where they need to go somewhere that isn’t still inside me.
  • There’s a new writing thing happening.  Some of it is super-secret hush-hush, but I can say that I’m the Lead Author (listen to that—author! Not blogger!) for an upcoming website being built by a top-notch group of people at Crowd Fusion.  Their first baby, Obsessable, just hatched and it gives you an idea of the quality of what I’m involved with here.  And the buzz on this is great.  More to come, but unfortunately it’s still sort of secret for now.
  • I’ve joined a gym.  Apparently it’s sort of a lifestyle thing, and all the women have great asses.  I can’t stop looking.  I try not to compare my speed/calories burned/distance covered to my elliptical neighbors, but I can’t help it.  And why should my skinny body burn fewer calories than your fatter one?  I don’t get it.  Oh, and if I don’t forget to keep up with this, I’m going to be doing a whole lot of pushups.
  • Matthew bought a refrigerator this weekend and I think he deserves a round of applause.  Not the sarcastic kind; make it real, people!
  • And I’m sort of freaked out by something just now.  Deep breath.  Be cool.  Tiptoe away quietly.

Yo, that’s it, right?