Category: Words

This blog has been preempted…

By an unexpected visit to the Tequila Palace for dinner and boozes. Sorry.

As I was leaving, Chelle asked me how I was going to pull of a blog about hard cider, pubic hair, chillum pipes, leftovers and avocado chocolate pudding. I told her I probably wouldn’t pull it off at all.

Then I started to twitch because it was 10pm and I had barely started a blog before we decided to share our leftovers while Chelle made paleo breakfast cookies and I had a compulsive need to write something even though I am sleepy and medicated and maybe a little buzzed. Wow. Punctuation, maybe? Anyway. I needed to write something before I fall asleep so…I am.

Sorry.

You can stop reading at any point. I won’t mind.

I would not be a bit surprised if I stopped writing suddenly, either.

As usual, there was interesting conversation while Chelle made cookies and we tasted cherry-apple hard cider. We talked about how some people have weirdly strong preferences about pubic hair, how irritating it is to get one stuck in your teeth, and how some people are lying through their, uh, teeth, if they say that never happens to them no matter how much hair is involved. There is just no way to avoid it. It’s the one upside to hair removal! It isn’t because of how it looks, in my opinion.

I probably should have warned sensitive people, and my Mother to skip this one, huh?

It’s not likely to get much better. Why do I say that? Just a feeling…

After the cookies came out of the oven, we put our dinner together, talked about boys, and Googled for information on chillum pipes because I wasn’t sure I remembered anything about them. Much like I don’t remember anything I am writing now!

Then, we switched to wine and enjoyed some curiously delicious chocolate avocado pudding while trying to figure out just how I was going to come up with something to write about again.

Socializing and writing? Not very compatible.

It’s a good thing Chelle told me what to write about.

And now I have one more thing to try the next time I am not sure what to write about: take 4 random concepts and combine them in 1 post. That’s not exactly what I am doing now. Those words were actually the evening’s highlights.

If you can call pubic hair and avocado pudding “highlights.”
Which I definitely do.

Oh, and we liked the Julian Cherry Bomb the best.

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an imaginary talk about shit and ideas

How do you find something different to write every day? Don’t you run out of ideas?

I am always one post away from my last idea. I feel like I repeat myself sometimes and have to search back and make sure I am not plagiarizing myself.

What will you if it happens?

What I always do!

It already happens?

All the time.

So what do you?

First I check my notes.

Notes?

For ideas. If I am in the car, or see something online, or overhear something unusual or noteworthy, I try to write it down.

That’s very writerly.

Nah, it’s just my lousy memory. I’d never remember any of my ideas if I didn’t write them down. But then I still run out of ideas and have to make something up. And if all else fails, there is always an imaginary dialogue.

You make those up?

Uh, “imaginary”?

Right.

Sometimes they’re based on a real conversation. Sometimes it’s a conversation I wish would happen. Sometimes it’s just one sentence that someone says that comes to mind and I invent shit around it.

Like what?

Like the other day at a BBQ, Shayla asked what I write about. I said “random shit” and she wanted to know more. So I said “like when your Mom and I were talking about colonoscopies and bowel preps during dinner, and you told the enema story. I suspect that will go in somewhere.”

You were talking about enemas and colonoscopies during dinner?

Well, in my defense, my mother is a nurse. I have no conversational boundaries at meal time. She used to tell enema stories at holiday dinners.

You could do a funny blog about shit.

Shit is always funny. It’s kind of obvious though, so I am saving it for an emergency.

Good idea.

Someday I am going to use the line that sometimes the random shit I write is literally about shit. I can’t figure out how to fit it in.

Well, shit is pretty flexible.

Much like a colonoscope.







Ordinary things

They had an ordinary life, full of ordinary things-if love can ever be called that.
–Leigh Bardugo/Ruin and Rising

This was the happy ending of a book in which two people with extraordinary abilities lost nearly everything except love. No, I am not going to talk about beginnings and endings again. I am going to wonder about things that are ordinary.

Ordinary gets a bit of a bum rap. The thing is, there is really nothing wrong with ordinary.

Boring? Sure. Banal? Absolutely. Watching TV all day? Yes.

Ordinary isn’t necessarily a synonym for boring though. All of the every day miracles are ordinary things. The fault is not in things and people being ordinary, but in not appreciating what is beautiful about them.

Sun.
Rain.
Grass.
Books.
Music.
Sex.
Breathing.
Heartbeats.
Love. Always love.

Things that manage to be both ordinary and extraordinary at the same time.

and there are thousands of them.