"The magic stops here," She said.
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I've decided I'm not legitimate until I get a business card. The kink in that plan is that no one has told me who the person is that purchases them for you. That's the way it rolls in Academia. String after string after string all tied to some alleged piece of paper that started the whole trail...probably back in the last 1950s. The thing you don't find out until later is that sometimes it's not even really a piece of paper. It's a person. Or a piece of a person. And it's quite an ingenious plan. I've certainly never seen the person, the...
That time I was in a Sartre play: part of a memoir, sort of.
I'm considering penning a memoir. I'm serious. I'm sure there's a finer art to it than what I'm putting to paper. No, I know there is as evidenced by PaperGirlMemoir's blog. I enjoy her blog, among several others, those detailing their writing journeys. I suppose she's serving as a "model," though she has a much better, cleaner handle on how to go about writing one than I do. I tend to ramble. (I'm pretending it's my style, so don't say anything). At first, I thought, why on earth would I think anyone wants to read a memoir by me. And then, I...
I'm addicted to crack (machines).
There's an epidemic in Starkville. I know because I'm very attuned to these things. Like any hypochondriac. It's crack (machines). I speak from experience. (And I'm pretty sure it's not an epidemic of One, but if it is, that's ok, because the army is an Army of One, and I know for a fact that there's more than one person in the army. I'm stepping forward to speak today because I'm no longer afraid to confess that I'm addicted. Perhaps, I can speak as One for us All. Perhaps, my story will help others). I could hardly write that last sentence without giggling...at least,...
Last night, my ankle had an out-of-body experience.
It's a crying shame Shakespeare didn't write a character who had an almost broken, badly sprained ankle. He didn't, did he? I mean, I'm only peripherally familiar with the hunchback of Richard III. (I think it's the III, it's Richard plus some number, that much I know). I still have two more gruelling performances of this play left and last night I...well...I may have compromised my 1000% commitment to my role in this production: I now possess a badly sprained ankle. That's never happened to me before, in my entire acting career. Truth be told, and gladly, I used to have really good balance and coordination....
Keeping up with the Jeffersons.
You know how the song goes. I'll just put a verse of it here: Fish don't fry in the kitchen; Beans don't burn on the grill. Took a whole lotta tryin', Just to get up that hill. [...] Finally got a piece of the pie, hi, hi, hi, hiyah, uh, hi. Something like that. My memory may fail me, but I love the song. And, like the Jeffersons, I've moved on up, got my pie (no meringue because that's like pudding, and I hate pudding). My piece of the pie? I've created a website. I have. I'm just not entirely sure how. I know, I know, I can hardly...
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