Blog-by-Numbers

lion-statue-zoo-37609This is still doable.

I think I am going to puke, but I can’t be sure.

  • Bullets.  Bullets make everything better.  Just look at that Bob Schneider song.
  • Don’t puke.  Just don’t puke.
  • Language.  Think about it!
  • I need to get on the bike.  I am fine.  It’s only 9.  I have the dentist tomorrow.  I just want to pass out.
  • I read this really interesting article in Jezebel today about the unsung skill of adaptation in fictional characters and I wish I had even one iota of ability to go back and look at it again.  But I don’t.
  • My head is gonna burst open and fill this room with bees.
  • Bees.  Not beeeezzzzzus
  • My father and my half-sister and nephew went to see my grandfather in Minnesota.
  • I feel like if I could just decide to be better it is possible.
  • I learned about kaleidoscopes and pigments and the history of Mayfair in England.
  • I might be writing the 1910’s version of National Treasure.
  • I have eaten enough if I eat this cake.  I am trying to will myself to not feel so crappy so I can eat it and make my legs move for ten minutes on the bike.
  • There’s been a headache looming that now is here.  I think it might have come from only eating this little cup of chili that I had to heat three times in various vessels.   Sooner or later, I will get the chance to buy some groceries.  A few stressful financial considerations at the moment are playing into not doing that, but I want this to work.  So I didn’t go run and get more food for lunch, but ate the chili, tabulated the total, and had a perfectly filling dinner.  I was good. Or good enough once I get on this bike.
  • Sometimes, in between all the moments when I am not thinking anything beyond the task at hand, and in between those filler moments of disbelief and distrust, I have his sense, of, okay…this is the work, this is the groove, this is the Nile, lay still and let it move through you.
  • A skirt that was too tight to wear was just loose enough to wear imperfectly today.  It’s this brown corduroy thing with buttons up it that never sit neatly aligned in front and I don’t love it, or love the oddly brown sparkled tights or the thirdly brown-shaded boots I had on underneath, but there is a bit of a oh, hoh, moment.  Not being brave about trying anything else for a while though.
  • Hoping that Dear Sugar can distract me from my physical crappitude.
  • She says: “In every virtue is a vice, and in every vice is a virtue.”
  • P.S., it is helping.
  • Maybe I am getting a bit of a second wind. Maybe.  I don’t feel so deadly.  No Greek Goddesses desperate to crack my skull open for some air.
  • It doesn’t have to be a perfect wind, not a gust.  Just a little puff, puff, puff, from one letter to the next.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s