It's all I ever wanted, just to be read once or twice. I don't need to be on Conan. I don't need Jay to think I'm okay. I don't need to hang in a glass box from a chain on a crane to get attention. All I have to do is blog away and it's all done for me.
Today I was in my office writing, as I am now, looking out the window at the squirrels chasing each other in circles — and I looked back at my screen that said: "Uodfsau8 I wzs on my offivce wrltkng, as I am nle." I never learned how to touch type.
I work in a cozy tiny bright room in the garage and have a clear view of the back of the house to which a large deck is attached. Here in DeKalb where the Sun Shines Brighter it the last day of February and the first day of summer. It's 50 degrees.
From out of the kitchen streak five little dogs who crash into the locked gate. They are hysterical. They have an urgent message for the squirrels: "You! You! You! Go! Go! Go! Go! You! Go! Out! Yard! Now! You! You!" The smartest of them, Henri, who is gay, is the most reasonable, advising them to use the roof. Roof! ROOOF!
Meanwhile I'm trying to decide whether I should leave something in that only two years ago was deeply embarrassing. I decide to kill it, regret it, control Z it and save it on Notepad, absent-mindedly hit control N and get a new document, fresh as a sheet from the dryer. I wonder how I got here and what I should blog about today.
Two of my adult children are now on the deck, talking. A third is in the basement selling everything on eBay. The two on the deck are excited about their new phones, taking pictures of each other. It's very cute.
We're seeing this all over town. It's a small town, DeKalb, where everybody knows each other except me; a college town in the land of corn. As it gets closer to Spring break they're predicting a potentially serious outbreak of GGW as a direct result of the proliferation of these gadgets. Most of us from around here are surprised by all the shirt lifting and video making going on these days, especially while Uncle Chester still festers in prison for doing something similar.
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