casual update

Today I am going to post in this blog. It is not going to get overly cerebral. It is not going to get weird. I am not going to write an apology, or a long treatise on where I’ve been and why I have journeyed there. I’m not going into long metaphors about dental hygiene or my cats.

I actually don’t know what I’m going to say.

I used to know the purpose of blogging. It was like a public diary. Of course people wanted to know everything about me. I’m terribly interesting. Right? Of course. Now that we got that out of the way.

The problem was when the internet got mean and no one thinks other people are interesting anymore. It’s what my great (possibly great-great) aunt Mamie used to call “making the game schmeary.”

This is a situation of playing Uno and you keep getting all the skips and reverses and draw fours (none of the other wild cards where you can just peacefully change the color and move on). And the person to your right (where the direction of play is heading) keeps getting slammed by what they think are your dastardly dealings of death and pain. Draw 2. Draw 2 again. Oh. A Skip. Then someone else skips to you then you lay down a Wild Draw 4. You’ve said “uno” every time. In fact, one time you said it slow and they viciously said “UNO” at the same time but everyone at the table said “nooooooo,” that you got it in in time and now player-to-the-right is turning into a thunderous raincloud right before your eyes and the living room is about to be a category 5.

Scores are tallied. You’re only 3 rounds in and you were going to play 5. or six. But player on your right THROWS the cards into the air (you find the one of the missing Blue 4s two weeks later, chewed up by cats) and storms out and that’s the end of this metaphor. But did you MEAN to draw all those cards? Were you supposed to be NICE about it and just rack up the points so that they could win? Apparently so …….. apparently you’re supposed to let the wookie win or he tears your arms off.

This is not the way that things should work, and I said that I wasn’t going to do this but this is why I don’t write much internet anymore or post and why nobody can have nice things or coffee and pie in public. Unnnngh and flargh. You have all heard this before. “Go brush your teeth, Denise!”

Obviously the card throwers of the world are making the game schmeary and if you hold your breath and kick and scream in the cereal aisle because mommy won’t buy you Count Chocula then you are a SPOILT BRAT, right? This should happen across the board RIGHT? RIGHT??!?!

Does it happen? No. Some people can just have and do whatever they want. Some people can just WALTZ down fifth avenue and…

no. I wasn’t going to do that. Who cares? Who listens? Does this even HELP. So no. Not from me …

NOT TODAY! (throws improv dagger)

I will talk about improv tomorrow. I will talk more about myself, soon. Because I will come back here tomorrow (or soon) and write here in this blog some more (or soon).


casual update

Old Elderly Birthday-Unbirthday

I found THE old post I wrote but didn’t publish for some weirdo reason on my 39th birthday, 2.5 years ago. I thought I’d show it now for your a-moose-mint. And to motivate myself because I was already feeling elderly when I was still youngirly. So I need to get over it and suck it up! Chop choppitty!!

1. this is my last thirties year. i do not feel like an elder-berry. so I am not going to Act like One.
2. I have a feeling of urgency regarding goals. This probably has to do with a kicked up libido, the feeling that I am running out of hooks, tests that have indicated wonky kidney function, decreased attention span when reading historical biographies and informational texts, a decreased tolerance for alcohol and steak, my body starting to argue with my predilection for eating candy and keeping weird hours, the presence of electric guitar players in my general destiny, and increased eye wrinkles.
3. My right shoulder hurts and I am fixing to go to the movies. The whole town is at Formula 1. Aerosmith is in town. I did not ask them to dinner. This has less to do with the kitchen being a mess and more to do with the fact that they are Famous People and I do not have access to their phone numbers.
4. If I did, I would make them listen to some Billy and the Psychotics stuff – because that’s the stuff I’m having people listen to lately when I say “hey, look at this cool stuff I do,” and I think we’re getting pretty consistently good.

5. I’m not just being silly, I don’t think.

Old Elderly Birthday-Unbirthday

Part 2 (actually, I did)

Dear Readers,
I am in the middle of writing a blog post about something or other. I wasn’t done with it. WordPress posted it anyway for about five minutes and 1.7 people might have seen it from Twitter or wherever because I’m on my iPad. Sorry about that. What a great start to our year. Perhaps no one is reading this. Perhaps I should go to sleep. These are the kinds of problems that I had long ago, when the diplodoci roamed the internet. I’ve been on here too long for this silliness.

ps. tomorrow I will take a photo of something. maybe food.

pps. I will also maybe include a poem because a lot of you started following for that and I feel like I am falsely advertising here with my whining about how I do not blog flah flah wah excuse excuse-itty-poo rather than just write-writing away. Perhaps I will write a nice poem about blogging for an audience, like a circus pony. I am not trying to be sarcastic. I think I have a disease right now where everything I say sounds sarcastic, like Sarcasmiosis (which was not a very creative name for that) or maybe we will call it Splarvus Syndrome, for when you are afflicted with the sarcazzies. Anyway, I’ve started blogging another blog right here now during this edit–which I resolved not to do (even though that was Not one of my resolutions (not that I made any)).

Part 2 (actually, I did)

she’s just not that out to space

if energy equals
times the speed
of this little light
of mine,

it makes a lot of sense
that I am sick
that it is dark and relentless
and that I am gaining weight
and wish for chocolate …

that I cannot find a compass pointing
to a direction
or a boat that doesn’t sink
or boiling water that isn’t lukewarm;

passion poetry is tepid milk,
lingerie sags granny panty not-hot,
and every sentence I lose ground– further indicted, but No offense …

… and forty-one gives up without a fight, two months before it had planned on it–two months shy of birthday lift-off.

she’s just not that out to space