Friday, December 17, 2010

the one where I take it back

(EDIT on Saturday, Dec. 18: I took this post down yesterday because it annoyed me. By doing that, I broke a promise to myself to be as "transparent" (don't you just HATE that word these days?) as possible in this blogging effort I've started. So. Here it is again in all it's hideousness and glorious morose blechedness. I am a different Lizzie today, and I can stand to look at yesterday's sad, bad Lizzie. Oh, I also took down the post before this post because I am a brat. There is no prompt to replace the "lesson" prompt, which I haven't tackled for personal reasons.)




I have hit an emotional bump in my holiday road.

Clonk.

I don't know that I'll ever finish writing the piece I started based on the prompt I created on the previous post. (or on which the prompt is based?)

Follow through is not my strong suit.

"Strong suit."

I wish my strong suit were hearts.
Then I would be lucky in love.
Or diamonds.
Then I would be prosperous with fat bank accounts
that grew
instead of diminished
because I work for nothing.

*

Damn.

Must cheer self up.

*

this is a freaky and stupid thing to notice, but sometimes, those "bad dates" (as in anniversaries, not times when one goes out with some schlub who flosses his teeth at the restaurant table or tells you all about his gastrointestinal issues as you slurp down spaghetti) fall on the days of the week when the bad/sad/traumatic thing happened.

You know what I mean.

For instance, my mother died Monday, Dec. 20, 1993.

I'm going to spare you what I'd written here. It's too maudlin and depressing, and I can't get it quite right. It's "old news," though it's feeling rather fresh today.

When I look at the calendar and see the days and dates, I kind of want to stab a pencil in my eye.

Oh, GAH! This is not the kind of thing I mean to write here on this blog, not now, and not after Reverb 10 is over. I was going to start a series of "How To Not ..." posts. (what I'm affectionately referring to as The Split Infinitive Posts.) You know, "How to Not Finish a Novel," "How to Not Get Paid for Working Your Ass Off," "How to Not Divorce Your Not Husband."

I seem more inclined to write depressing and intimate things these days, things that are no one's business, things that might make a reader uncomfortable and feeling squirmy and sick to his stomach.

Oh well. I guess once I get going on the series (but I won't - see "follow through" comment above), I could write a post called, "How to Not Attract Blog Readers."


*

Here is a lesson on "How to Distract Readers from the Dreadful Content of a Post without Actually Deleting the Entire Post" (though I did delete most of it, you lucky sots):


My Girl uses everything as a canvas, including her face.

1 comment:

  1. Sorry you are feeling like this but glad you wrote it down here and that I read it.

    I could join you in a few How Not to Posts. I kick myself sometimes when I blog something really personal. I also kick myself when I don't blog it too. Can't win there.

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