carbon flowering glass

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I think I may have broken my brain from excessive cell-phone interviewing. Fortunately, most of the people I've been talking to today are the kind one can lob a softball to--really just a plastic Baggie stuffed with lawn clippings--and type away as they run around with it for five or seven minutes. But an editor, sending me back what I thought was a perfectly reasonable 60-word blurb, pointed out that I had 1) omitted a "the" without which the whole thing collapsed into ambiguously grammatical torpor, and 2) used obscuro Nigerian slang in a way that I assumed everyone would just grok. Not good. Also, I need to spend the next eight hours or so being cleverer than I'm necessarily up for.

Accidentally sat on our cat a little while ago. Well, leaned back onto her, more exactly. I was alerted to this not by any sound, but by a set of claws sprung deep into my back. Oh, Edie, you minx! 45 seconds later, she was playing with me like she'd never taken offense. Then she curled up and napped again. Edie Blues Explosion Gidley: one Hell of a nice animal, frequently mistaken for a throw pillow, as B. Kliban almost put it.

Line from the Naysayer's set last week that's lodged in my head right now: "Kitten time, kitten time/How do you know when it's kitten time?/I can tell by how much I've been cryin'." Song that lodged, unaccountably, in my head last night: "You Can't Get a Man with a Gun."

The new McSweeney's is the carrot, the real estate listings are the stick. Ya, Wolk! Ya! Ya!


Mer said:

You so crazy.

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This page contains a single entry by Douglas published on May 27, 2004 4:49 PM.

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