I have been quiet. People out in the great gray midwest are tense and troubled and this makes me feel like I need a little quietude.
Sometimes, I wish I were more oblivious.
It's been a keep-your-head-down-stay-out-of-trouble-expect-the-worst kind of week and I see no signs this will get any better. I am considering a career as a pizza artist or high-class panhandler. I would like to be a stage magician or a professional psychic who sees omens in your lawnmower clippings or a babysitter of rare fish or a zombie film set cleaner (I would not like to be a zombie who cleans film sets but rather, an ordinary woman who cleans up the fake brains and entrails and eyeballs left lying around after a zombie film has wrapped).
I would like to be a bartender on an alien planet and serve shocking pink and electric blue drinks that have a charming tendency to smoke and swirl inside beer mugs and brandy snifters.
I would like to open a tea house / independent bookstore / art gallery / playground for grown-ups. We'd *totally* have a big wavy slide and serve popsicles and fudgesicles on hot afternoons.
I think it would be pretty groovy.
I cleaned the bejeezus out of my bathroom today. I also organized drawers full of buttons and hairclips and safety pins. I put everything into categories and stored them in ziplock bags. It's quite possible I have officially gone insane.
One must create order in a disorderly universe.
Blood Pudding Press notes
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