it's hump day.
make it a good one.
i really hate trying to write when the tv is on.
but i can do it.
i can't do it.
i would love to go to a disco club.
i love that shit.
just for dancing, not for any other time.
cuz that just wouldn't be right.
oh, for those of you who so graciously played the "guess my husband's name" game...
someone who knows me in real life gave the answer.
at least i'm assuming.
i have no idea who it was, but whatever.
it was time for an answer.
he's tall and blonde with blue eyes and a goatee.
quite a handsome feller, if you don't mind my saying.
hell, even if you do mind.
i might even slap on a picture if i get around to it.
oh yeah, and for those of you keeping score out there...
my kids flushed some more toys down the toilet yesterday and flooded the bathroom 3 times since then.
yeah, i just turned off the water today.
now we have to call a plumber.
good thing it's not our only toilet!!
and damn the televison.
and damn my inability to escape the chaos around me and just write something decent on occassion.
that does not look like the correct spelling of occasion--whatever.
is spring here?
i am not quite ready, oddly.
i want to ski once more.
i want to get skinnier.
i want to get tanner.
i want to not be tired all the time.
and then spring will be welcomed.
with open arms (or legs...)
we will probably ski in 3 weeks.
i am ten pounds lighter than i was.
i have begun to accumulate quite a nice base tan...
i felt more energenic today...
so perhaps i'll let the bitch in after all.
sometimes i'm afraid that if i am not tied down i will leap out of this life and plunge through the world like a sword through flesh.
sometimes i want to drive so fast, and so far that i don't remember where i came from.
sometimes i need more than there is to even ask for.
sometimes i feel like a grounded plane, a bird with a broken wing--i just want to fly, pushing the air down with my wings as i lift my body to the clouds.
sometimes i feel things so deeply that joy and pain are the same thing.
i want to see real wooden doors with ornate knobs and narrow staircases---i'm so sick of this cold perfection of new architechture that i could scream, out in the night as the sound waves spread over this sleeping, sleepy valley of blind and deaf clones.
fuck you tv.
something fell out of my cobwebbed bag of tricks in spite of you.
my selfishness makes sense when i call myself an artist.
shame on me.
and fuck me.
but all i want is to have peace and quiet to write.
so that maybe, just maybe, if i actually have a speck of talent inside i might nuture it and coax its stubborn, chapped little ass out into the sunlight to grow and bloom and fester and ooze....
and i will.
i am not well known for my vast stores of patience, however...
have a good day.
and don't forget to ignore the crazed rantings of a madwoman stuck in the body of a sweet little suburban housewife.