So. Something somewhere needs to give.
I suppose it’s the first sign of some sort of stability – a settling boredom with things as they are.
For starters [I hate this phrase], I’ve started drinking again [four bloodies for a hip-shaking bottom-slimming pretending-to-pole-dance-in-absence-of-the-pole back-busting new years eve]. Which really hasn’t changed much in my life, except that I’m back to being a bigger arse under the influence than when not-under-the-influence.
Not true really. But true enough.
It struck me the other day [another shining pull-outta-me-arse-and-plug-on-the-page impoverished-writer’s-phrase], as I fell into Roddy’s latest offering that this is one man I would like right here, right now. Not for one of those lasting emotion-over-body, mind-absorbing [relationship] things. Just to beget me a little girl or boy. My little angel who will write as well as daddy, and think like mama. Think of mama. Perhaps even write about mama and what she could’ve done with her potential-packed, ever-so-often-going-off-track life. Like Eminem.
So much for shitty, groupie style, low down bottom feeding atavism.
Sometimes I surprise myself. I really can think like that. Without shame.
So here’s to giving joy, peace and acceptance a chance. To stories and adventures beyond flesh, blood & here and now.
To the completion of the Last Roundup series.
To better punctuation.
To finer verbiage.