it's a convoluted mess
It’s after midnight so Christmas is over. And thank God for that. Joe spent over a week in the hospital with pneumonia and ended up having surgery to clean out infection around his lung. A seven-inch incision and a deliberately broken rib, plus tubes to drain things, and 24/7 oxygen support, he was an ornery bastard who just wanted to go home and have a cigarette. If I were Gayle, I’d put my foot in… Keep reading…It’s nothing new…
I’ve never had Korean food. Not to my knowledge at least. Though usually when I see pictures (recipes, articles, whathaveyou) of such foods, there are a lot of things I think I’d probably like if I had the opportunity to try them. Though unless I actively seek out these foods, I probably won’t be trying any of it anytime soon. Such is life. I have no idea if this Korean Beef recipe is anywhere near… Keep reading…Korean Beef…
I don’t know how to write narrative. We’ve been over this. When I first started writing…twenty-plus years ago…I wrote in first-person. (But NEVER first-person present-tense JESUSFUCKINGCHRIST people knock that shit off.) Most of the books I read were written in first person. It was what I knew. I don’t know exactly when I made the switch to third-person narrative. It was sometime after I finished my grand masterpiece, but that’s about all the memory I… Keep reading…This could last forever…
It’s been a rough month. For a lot of reasons. If I can survive two more days, I get Bob all to myself for sixteen days. Well…fourteen…because two of those are Christmas and SOCIAL OBLIGATIONS. Mech. But still. Two weeks of late nights, lazy mornings, minimal ventures out of the house, and all the shameless inanity we can muster. I need this. — Our Song Matchbox Twenty
Three weeks in a nutshell: … Joel got a new alternator and a new battery. … Bob’s car got two new tires to replace two bald tires. … The washing machine tried to escape the fucking laundry room. I’d thrown a blanket in to wash and went back upstairs to sort the rest of the laundry. Sometime during the cycle, something downstairs sounded like the whole fucking world was caving in. I went down to… Keep reading…How it used to be…
Wherein Sara babbles, at great length, about the writing projects currently burning holes in her brain. In other words, none of it will make any sense to anyone but me, and even I probably won’t understand any of it either. … … … There are times I sit and stare at the projects sitting in my writing folder and find myself wondering what the hell all these code names mean. So many of them have… Keep reading…One by one they drive me crazy…