I do so love a catchy title don't you? Sometimes that's all there is. Although I don't vividly remember the story itself, David Sedaris' Dinah The Christmas Whore is a title burned forever in my memory.
It's been brought to my attention (by me) that I cannot write unless I'm very interested in something, really happy about a particular event, pissed off or reviewing one event or another. Is there no middle ground? Perhaps this is it. Rambling around in my own brain looking for a way out.
A recurring thought - had I realized sooner that I, of all others, should by now be a literary scene darling pretending to hate the parties, I wouldn't be in this mess. You see, often I'll read something by one of the good Mssrs Sedaris, Lethem, Burroughs or Palahniuk, I think 'hey fucker, stop marauding around in my head and give me back my stuff'. Many's the time when I've already thought, said, described something in just the way one of them has and it makes me crazy/crazier.
Vicky and Sandra, booster commissionaires extraordinaires, tell me there there, you've got the Canadian perspective, the crazy family, the brilliant friends, just do it! They might be right.
I'll let you know how that works out for me. In between downloading songs for my iPod, my favourite inanimate object of late.
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