I should try to write today, each day I say this in fact, yet each day passes in turbulent silence nevertheless. I can't quite tell what is going on, whether I am SO BUSY I cannot find the time, or SO BORING I have no stories to tell, or SO SKINNY I need to save every last alcoholic calorie for the effort of being so busy and boring. It certainly can't be that I've no one left to write for, what with the number of lovely emails from you lovely people (imaginary all, notwithstanding the fact that I've actually, you know, met and had drinks and threatened to punch several of you in the neck) that have fluttered into my inbox to be adored and unanswered each busy and boring day. And it certainly can't be for lack of cardigans, because boy, does my closet overfloweth.
Last week I imported every important date into Google Calendar, which is only fair I think considering the love affair some misguided Googlebot seems to have with this site. To be indexed and re-indexed with such frequency when really, I only muster a post a month at best, is pretty damn flattering, my intense fear of -bots aside. So I'm Google Calendaring it up, and who knows, maybe one day I'll own a phone smart enough to take control of my life for me. I am the dreamer of dreams, after all. I am also the musicmaker.
Other things I have not been doing include NOT cooing over babies in both bodily and photographic form, NOT having fun goofing off with Mysterygirl!, NOT drinking gin, NOT running, NOT listening to Whiskeytown, NOT eating delicious meals with good friends, and heading up to Montreal with the boys for poutine and booze.
That last one will be rectified shortly.
If there's a hell, and quite frankly I'm not convinced that this life isn't exactly that in a deep philosophical sort of way, I believe that the menu would include poutine and cow tongue at every meal.
ReplyDeleteAfter all these years, I can't I've had poutine and booze in the same sitting. I suddenly feel inadequate. Hi kat.
ReplyDeleteI have been feeling very meh about writing in my blog lately. I blame the heat.
ReplyDeleteI think the urge to write comes in waves, like labor pains. At first the urges are like, nonexistent and then they move to every once in a while and they're pretty annoying and then before you know it you're like FUCK WHAT IS COMING OUT OF ME and you kind of want to kill yourself because it hurts but you can't stop and then you're done until you get knocked up with another idea in about a year or so. Yeah, that's pretty much a perfect metaphor.
ReplyDeleteI fondly remember your threat to punch me in the neck. It forced me to be much sneakier in my attempts to take your picture.
ReplyDeleteLet's NOT goof off again sometime soon. That bartender did enjoy a good Jameson shot.
ReplyDeletesir - wrong on both counts! but keep trying ;)
ReplyDeletepeefer - you should do it this weekend! then we can pretend we're doing it together. errrr, eating poutine and drinking booze i mean.
jennie - blog writing is highly overrated.
ashley - your comment had me like whoa.
vahid - i still can't believe how short my hair was. and one day you'll look back at pictures of your bald head and think the same thing ;)
mg! - DUDE, yes. AND i found a new place with GREAT cocktails.
I don't believe you've even once threatened to punch me in the neck. But I'm actually okay with that because I think being neck-punched might hurt, and I'm allergic to hurting like nobody's business. Which makes no sense. Whatever. I'm here. And I miss you. And it's nice to see you write something, even if it's something you think of as nothing.
ReplyDelete