There's been a million things to write and I've written them but when it comes to pressing the garish orange "publish post" button at the bottom of the screen I stop. I crumple my tongue and merely hit the hi-line blue "save now." All this holding in of ideas after I commit to SAYING IT.
[sigh]
This is harder than I thought.
Oh wait! Tonight I did fall off my chair in an attempt to tell my cousins I loved them. Progress.
The other night I was sitting up with dead horses. We were playing some dead card games and the D.H. I call Ione made a particularly magnificent dry witted comment about the Grim Reaper (you see they're not so bad once you get to know them) when I looked up at her and realized, with a severe start (the kind that E1's car hasn't been capable of in a few years), that Ione and the others looked alive. In fact, I reached over to Q who was directly to my right and felt the pulse on his foreleg. He had a pulse.
"Pinch me," I said to Cliff.
"Are you trying to make a joke? I've got hooves not apposable thumbs."
"Oh...yeah, no...sorry..." I felt so confused. Have I been wrong this whole time? "Hey guys, did you know you're alive?"
They stared at me.
"We're alive?" Bea threw her cards on the table. "Why have you been lying to us?!"
"I didn't mean to lie! No, I wasn't lying, I didn't know!"
Arnison smiled, "So are you going to buy a ranch for us?"
"No, on this I will not budge. You are going away."
On another note, I am Egypt.
Showing posts with label SAY IT. Show all posts
Showing posts with label SAY IT. Show all posts
11 October 2009
meet: eternity
I will never die.
You see, I know this because yesterday JG, E1, and I were discussing denim pursuits so I, of course, put on James Brown's "Hot Pants" and then I, of course, stood up on my chair and started dancing. Because that is a natural reaction to hearing James Brown.
"Gee, it's great to be 22 and dancing on chairs to James Brown," I thought. But then I realized I would do this at any age. Someday I will be old, frail, and wheelchaired and someone will put on JB's "Make it funky" and I will naturally stand up in my wheelchair and dance. But wheelchairs and my legs will be unsteady therefore leading to death. HOWEVER, by the time I'm 133 (which is the age I figure people will be dying at in those days) we should have gyroscopic wheelchairs. And hip implants. Ergo: my gyroscopic geriatric hips will really be even better at gyrating to James Brown.
Ergo: no dying.
speaking of gyroscopes...
I have a segue resolution to lead between 2009 and 2010. I've done very well with 2009 and it's led to this and we'll see where 2010 takes us, but the point of this paragraph is my INTERIM RESOLUTION. Il s'appelle*: SAY IT.
Tis an attempt to reduce the lag time between what I'm thinking and what you hear. Tis an attempt to reduce my seeming to lack emotion. Tis an attempt to make sure I never leave you thinking that you have lost my interest because I've remained quiet. Tis an attempt to reduce the distance between us. Tis the season to SAY IT.
*It's called
You see, I know this because yesterday JG, E1, and I were discussing denim pursuits so I, of course, put on James Brown's "Hot Pants" and then I, of course, stood up on my chair and started dancing. Because that is a natural reaction to hearing James Brown.
"Gee, it's great to be 22 and dancing on chairs to James Brown," I thought. But then I realized I would do this at any age. Someday I will be old, frail, and wheelchaired and someone will put on JB's "Make it funky" and I will naturally stand up in my wheelchair and dance. But wheelchairs and my legs will be unsteady therefore leading to death. HOWEVER, by the time I'm 133 (which is the age I figure people will be dying at in those days) we should have gyroscopic wheelchairs. And hip implants. Ergo: my gyroscopic geriatric hips will really be even better at gyrating to James Brown.
Ergo: no dying.
speaking of gyroscopes...
I have a segue resolution to lead between 2009 and 2010. I've done very well with 2009 and it's led to this and we'll see where 2010 takes us, but the point of this paragraph is my INTERIM RESOLUTION. Il s'appelle*: SAY IT.
Tis an attempt to reduce the lag time between what I'm thinking and what you hear. Tis an attempt to reduce my seeming to lack emotion. Tis an attempt to make sure I never leave you thinking that you have lost my interest because I've remained quiet. Tis an attempt to reduce the distance between us. Tis the season to SAY IT.
*It's called
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