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Blustery February
Begin here, as May Sarton always wrote when she closed the door to her study and sat down to write. Begin here. Ok. So. I’m just going to get all my blurts out so I can buckle down on Book. Feel free to roll your eyes for I am blatantly using this forum to glide into my Foxhole. I am sorry, dear Sirenader, you deserve better and I promise to do right by you soon. But just showing up at the plate today feels like a feat, what with this cold-cold-cold and brain sludge and financial worries and existentially broken heart and okay yes blurts. SO. I wanna write, stage, and star in a new Broadway production entitled SNOTSICLES! THE MUSICAL! to take place on the first day of Febrooooary and ALSO I want an appropriate occasion for the gorgeous ill-advisedly long earrings I was gifted for my birthday and ALSO I miss sex on the regular and ALSO It offends me that my ex no longer stalks me on social media though I stopped following him halfway through that disaster of a relationship and ALSO fuck valdeTrump GOP MAGA corporatized Dems too. ALSO I think I have bitten off more than I can chew with this book sheeeit why isn’t it done yet it’s never gonna sell ALSO Grey’s Anatomy slayed last night and I 100 percent can defend my continued passion for the show ALSO should it bother me that I am a 48-year-old woman who still wears pigtails? Probably OK THANKS SEE YA SOON. (I hope.)
Pardon the Mess, I Live Here
I have known K since our late 20s, but we only became solid friends in our 40s. First he had a crush on me and I found him esoteric. Then I had a crush on him and he found me extra. Only now that we’ve outgrown feeling slighted by people who don’t desire us have we become good friends.
It’s the best.
Because we are neighbors, we often meet up for coffee, go on rambling walks, help each other out. We have seen each other through some very hard times–illnesses, deaths, breakups, poverty. Neither of us are out of the woods in that last category, and we talk about how being broke feels different as you get older. Aging is a constant undercurrent of our conversations.
Perhaps I should say overcurrent. Continue Reading →