Having finished the rewrites, I did start typing up, but I also used the weed whacker on my entire lawn because I “let the pollinators” have it. So my arms were absolutely borked for about three days. I did very little typing. My goal is to have everything typed up by midmonth, and then do a typo run because my god damn you wouldn’t even believe I know how to type. The worst one is eyes. I’m always typing eeys. Who is that, me? Who is that? Why do you insist upon that which cannot be insisted upon?
Anyway, yes, so I’m doing writing stuff. I mentioned I was going to beta for someone, and I did start this. I backed out, however, because I don’t think my insight will offer much. It’s not a story I typically read, and while I don’t usually back away from such a project, this one felt a bit like I’d be playing a bit of Marco Polo with myself, so I respectfully stepped away.
I also have my first DNF of the year for books I’m reading. One of my bingo board books, which is one I’ve tried to read many, many times, but it just feels less like a cohesive book and more like a person climbing over the counter while you’re trying to pour them a glass of milk, and they need you to see this rock RIGHT NOW or else. It’s a non-fiction, which I am trying to read more of, but this one was a no from me, dawg. Eating Animals by Jonathan Safran Foer, and if you’re a long time listener of the blog, you’ll recognize that name as someone I’ve mentioned as a favorite. Well, his approach to non-fiction left a lot to be desired for me. I’ve been vegetarian for ten years now, and yes, when this book was published, factory farming was less talked about in larger conversations. So, perhaps it’s not a timeless kind of book. I often say I’m a cool vegetarian because I don’t judge people for how they eat. I have known food insecurity more than once in my lifetime, so I’m not about to say “you can’t eat that!” Especially nowadays? Goodness, have you seen the cost of broccoli?
But that’s my point. When we got so concerned over other people’s bodies, I’ll never know, but it’s kind of creepy and a bit weird, to be real frankfurter (the lightlife brand veggie dogs are decent. not perfect! but decent). I have been of the mindset lately that we should be much less eager to share everything. I say while writing a blog post. But I’m not giving you details about extremely personal bodily functions, or what … other things. Yeah, I want to go back to being quiet. Making sure my words have a purpose before I use them.
I had something else to talk about, but fuck if I remember what that was (the word fuck always has a purpose). I’m going to type now, though, with my non-borked arms. I hope you are–WAIT. I remember. I was going to tell you what I am reading now instead of the myeh myeh book. Two from my bingo board, and one from an excursion with a friend. The Bean Trees by Barbara Kingsolver, The Monkey Wrench Gang by Edward Abbey, and Mule Boy by Andrew Krivak. Mule Boy is a trip down McCarthy lane because it’s all one sentence and there are probably a thousand commas before you get to page 30. But it’s an interesting concept, and I’m finding the rhythm of it, much like I do when I read McCarthy.
And now, I’m done. Thank you for sticking around. I hope you’re well, and I hope your words are never ordinary because you, my darling, are extraordinary. Look at ya. Would ya just look at ya. Stunnin’.
Until next time, friends.
salisbury.fake 