Blog Spot

The tone of this space has changed since I started because readership affects authorship, and because I ran out of family photos. For some reason I thought I had to say really important things; there were lots of times when I had things to say that weren't, so I didn't. I like what everyone else is saying, and today I just want to say that. Who would have thought I would grow so connected to an online community of bloggers? Certainly not me. The surprise is that I'm not reading bloggers, I'm reading writers, really good ones. If I want to craft, I know who to look to. If I want to laugh, that's there too.

Over squid legs and seaweed I told my brother how different my life will be two weeks from now. It will be really different. I will not see the four girls faces I see everyday now. I will not stay in the library until it rudely beeps at me to leave. I will be outside. I will be doing hard work, really hard work. What I said though, and my first thought was, "Those things I check in on will change." There are authors I might know from spending time inside their books, but not really, and so choosing a favourite is hard to do. But I have spent time with these people who write, the ones "In the Bay", and they are among my favourite people, and they are authors, so they are my favourite authors. Of all the things I will miss I will miss connecting to people through the written word in the way in which I do now. I'm fine at writing mail but awful at sending it. I'll try my best though.

Suzanne Robinson, or Little Suzy, as she is now so often (and affectionately) called, told me "I'm going to tattoo my address on your butt, and I'll do it backwards so it's legible when you look in the mirror." Five minutes later she said she could just do it on my arm if I would prefer that. I think instead, only for financial reasons of course, I'll put it in pen ink in a notebook. I might only be as successful as I have been in the past, with letters even right now sitting on my desk unsent, but I'll try my best to write.

Good Lovin Outside

Feels. How the body feels. I'm sifting through school notes and have that written down: "How the body feels."

Ta-Dah

Recently I've rooted myself in the first floor of the library, sometimes, when crowded, I extend myself even deeper into the basement. It's a hole there. So sometimes, with so much want to rise above*, my shoulders start swaying despite my best efforts for them to stay still, and my feet begin to move.

So today, I'm indulging my self. My body and my mind. As my paper permeates my mind I'm letting the scissor sisters cut through my body. Number 19 on the top 25 most played just moved to 18.

*Dirty Projectors, Spray Paint (the Walls), quickly approaching top 25 status

BLOOGIES IN MY cankerchief!

i am guest blogging robot. robot or not i am guest blogging. here on a robot named lynn's blog. i was recently dubya-d-forteed so this robot, called drea robot, is typing at about 500 words for millisecond. so i got this robot hat and this robot tatoo and this robot mullet all in one week. thats alotta upgrades! thats me up there looking sharp even befor ethe upgrades. now i'm a robot that basically blends in with mankind. like dolphons always wanted to do. but we beat them to it. so i live in the lab (codename "liverpool") with some other robots , hmhm i mean hommies. sometimes we go on vacations and put on our skin suits which are made with a built-in hydrocoating of 30 speffs! hiyah! so we cruz down to santa cruz, robot style, pick up some humans and spread the seed baby.talk about an upgrade! robots are terrible in bed, which just shake hands. but humans get so squirmy and fun. to technology and beyond! keep oiled and keep spreading fellow robies. roger that.

Golden

Doctors' Orders

Radio Cure as both cure and ailment. Caffeine as a catalyst.

Wallow for a while in that self-pity, let it make you cuddle up and sleep and bake and eat. Let it make you curl up in a ball. Act like a potato bug. Maybe drink a beer. Say "Fuck it" aloud. Call someone a shithead or an asshole. Glare at stuff. Complain. If these things aren't somehow satisfying then why do we always do them? Sulk in dissatisfaction.

Betray me but teach me something wonderful

I wish that I was a video artist, because as any sort of writer I can't show you the colours or light of today. No number of metaphors will do.

I can no longer trick myself into thinking that afternoons spent like this are wasted. I'm going to decide now to refuse to say, "My weekend was wonderful but I got nothing accomplished." I think people try to get the important stuff (papers) out of the way so they can enjoy moments like these. I got the important stuff out of the way so now maybe I can enjoy my papers.