Wednesday, May 14, 2008

brought to you by the letter f



Write something, and now.
It doesn’t matter if it’s good; just write.


I can’t think of anything to write.

Jesus. There are people watching. Throw it at the wall and see what sticks.

Fiiiiiine.


Where, exactly, does my money go? I have my suspicions, but I try reeeeeeally hard not to investigate them too closely. Always seem to spend more than I can make, and I never have anything to show for it. I have high-speed wireless, and the bill as well, but goddamnit, there are just some standards of living that have to be met. (Mental image of someone clutching desperately at wi-fi signals... was that in some cartoon recently?)


I’m trying to think of a compromise for the devils on either of my shoulder (and I mean devils in the most loving way possible, you two) about cursing on the blog. One shrugs as she flips the other off and says, “fuck it Lea, what the fuck do I care? I figured your internal monolog has more curses than real words and thought since it was all about self-expression, well, I guess I thought you’d have a damn spine and type like you think”. The other, calmer devil covers the ears of a small child in the room and cries a single, guilt-wrenching tear. She says nothing, but gives me a look that makes me want to alternately hug her and curl under a table crying in shame. “I understand your anger, it’s certainly justified”, she says softly after a minute “It hurts me to see you hurt. Do you understand me? I love you but you can show a little respect when I’m in the room.”

Oh little devils. I love you both so much. There is a part of me that can curse like a teamster. And there is part that hides it well. Since I can’t apparently listen to you both, and I know realistically I'm going to curse, I’ll try to think of a way to make up for it.

How about if I put a quarter in a cup for every curse on this blog and then give the sum to a charity?

No, you’re right, I wouldn’t trust me to do that either. I already told you I cashed in my change.

What if I did something involving other words?
What if I wrote a post on the linguistic history of curses?
What if I limit myself to 10 curses a post? No, that would never work. Some days are 178 curse word days.
I’m going to write a word of the week, I think. Some word I have to look up during the week. This week I had to look up… hang on, I circled it somewhere…

flanuer.

flanuer: an idle man-about-town.

So I suppose, instead of saying

“Oh you know Jim, he’s that lazy bastard always drinking coffee at the local café talking about Heidegger and how it impacted his blossoming music career and new found vegetarianism”,

I can say

“Oh, Jim is that flaneur with the vintage shirt in the sixth year of his MFA 'degree'. You know, the one with the pink bicycle? Likes to drink? No?"


How was that?

That was OK. Now edit the crap out of it and take out that money part. And don’t forget the spell check again, you twit.


No, you do it, I’m going to go smoke a cigarette and eat some reese’s pieces. I don’t respond well to name calling.

4 comments:

margottobed said...

thanks for stopping by and voting on my blog! so nice!

Jackie said...

I'm laughing too hard to leave a comment! As always, I admire your honesty and your enjoyable ramblings!

maggie, dammit said...

I pretty much solved this problem myself with my blog name. It's pretty clear what will be going on at my house should people choose to come in.... But I still get people adding me to their blogrolls as "OK, fine" or "OK, fine, d*it" or some such nonsense. I'm flattered, but... is there some fundamental disconnect there? Do these people get me at all?

Right, were we supposed to be talking about you? Fucking bloody hell.

Laura said...

Hi Lea! Hope all is well...
I tagged you, if you're interested in playing!
http://quirkology.blogspot.com/2008/05/tag-youre-it.html