I don’t relate to or enjoy the hashtag “amwriting” and that’s mainly because it feels quaint. Are people really just mentioning on twitter that they’re writing? And you can go to that hashtag and see all the most dull tweets in the world? I’d rather go stare at my sock bin. If I want to see what it’s like for people to write I will FART FART FART. Do my laundry. Wash my dishes. Put BBQ sauce all over a sandwich. It’s not that I don’t need community, I do!! I am struggling like crazy to re-write the end of my fucking novel. This year has already been a toilet ring of poop bacteria, do I really want to re-hash my brother dying?? Not really! No I do not! All whilst my wonderful couch sits behind me like a lusty pile of donuts begging me to come closer and don’t be shy.
The rain has been nice. The small dogs have not. My neighbor’s terrier (from his head down to his derriere) barks non-stop from 4pm-5pm every day. I do not admire his internal clock. Hearing that plus reading about the horrific state of my country is enough to set my teeth (by now each about as wide as a corn flake) on edge and ripping through to the gums which apparently, if you’re in that biz, give a great BJ. The only thing I want to suck on is an inch-wide length of hose attached to a mashed potato and gravy tub (though if some gas huffer person could get it started that would be great).
It is New Year’s Eve and I am doing my laundry, talking to my cats, and otherwise prepping the house to lumber into another year of working hard and judging good people. I’m drinking a green smoothie which I think is probably not quite the best idea because it’s cold and I think I’m supposed to eat hot foods to keep my barren womb in fighting shape. And the goddess knows we’ll need all the combative wombs we can get these next four years, as we become the banana republic some people have always dressed for (at least on Fridays). We can let Ronda Rousey retire and hope she thrives as an action star or shilling bathroom cleaner or whatever. I wish her the very breast. I wish all you boobs the very breast! Happy New Year!
Thank you! I whole heartedly agree. I woke up New Years morning and realized that I don’t think I wrote all year long. Don’t quote me on that how can I possibly remember? Everything is a fog after people dying. I remember really super cool stuff that my kids did but I honestly don’t know how I change my pants and then I realized I only have one pair jeans nowadays and I wear this uniform of a black V-neck T-shirt from Costco and jeans. I’m like Karlyn Lotney uniform but not but cool and hosting a Fairy Butch show. Fuck #amwriting. Loving and laughing with you, Baby.