Missed Another Day
Three posting days missed. (I did update The Jotted Line earlier, though, so, that's not too bad.) I really was sick for two days. No excuse for the third except I was busy catching up on all the blogs I haven't read in months. I tell you right now, if they gave a Pullitzer Prize for Weblogs, James Lileks would run away with the prize, hands down. (Maybe one year he could split the prize with Dooce or Blurbomat.)
This won't happen often. I'm getting used to this stuff and I feel lousy when I don't post. (I've actually got some old stuff written up that I've been meaning to post, but I just haven't had the desire to. Not the real, down-deep, burning desire, anyway.
Also, In Memory, is still not up yet. I wrote the other day for a couple of hours and wound up with a huge biography that no one in their right mind would post on the internet. I've got to run it through a strainer and take out at least some of the really bad stuff and put back some stuff I left out. It was cathartic, but maybe too much so.
For instance, I left out the part where my drunken father accidentally chased my drunken mother through a sliding glass door on the weekend of the 4th of July the year I was 6. She almost died before they could get her to the hospital. They also couldn't get her surgeon to the hospital because he'd been -- doing what most people do on 4th of July weekend -- drinking. So somebody, Heaven knows who, sewed her up -- you know, so that she wouldn't bleed to death. Dr. Surgeon of the year showed up next day to put long pieces of wire in her arm. Needless to say she was left horribly scarred and with an arm that was only in partially working order. Why they didn't sue, I'll never know? That incident was to prove to be pivotal in my life, in more ways than one.
O. K.. Enough of that. I'll save the sob stories for 'In My Memory' whenever it finally gets up. Here is where we say what we think about the stuff that is now. Stuff like: I don't particularly enjoy having G. W. as a head of state; man, it's been raining for two days now, when's it gonna stop; I can only stand about 40% of SpongeBob SquarePants shows (guess what percent they've been showing every day this week); I really need to get busy finishing my poetry book instead of catching up on reading everybody else's blogs that I haven't read in months. You know stuff like that.
I hope ya'll are still reading and waiting for better stuff, 'cause it's coming, believe me. It might not be wonderful, but it'll be something new and entertaining. O.K.. I have to go now, I have a two year old tugging at my sleeve and she has a marker in her hand. That can only mean one of two things: 1) she wants me to draw with her or 2) she's already been drawing and the livingroom is now a masterpiece. Can you guess which one I'm hoping it is?
