What's Next?

"She wore red on her lips and walked like her ass was a bell." --- Junot Diaz

I would love to write a sentence that good. (Or is it,"that well"?)Of course this Diaz guy is a Pulitzer Prize winner while the last prize I won was a kupie doll for shooting free throws at a carnival. Nevertheless, comparisons are valid. Could Diaz hit twelve in a row under pressure, huh, could he, could he?

Now that The Clearing has been put into cold storage until I can find time (finding time is hard, I've looked everywhere, even under the sofa pillows) to print it out and clear it up (so to speak) after which, I'll post it on the blog for any of youze who aren't already bored with it, I will need something else to fill the void that is this blog. ( Well there you go, if you start with "Now that The Clearing has been put into cold storage" and then skip to "I will need something else to fill the void..." you will actually have a readable sentence.)

I did enjoy writing that "fact or fiction" piece (Woowoo Charly says it's all true, she was there) on the blog. It saved me the daily anguish of what in the world do I write today. I mean, you already know our lawn is growing and birds sing in Panama which leaves me little else to describe and even if there were something, I couldn't in a million years come up with "she walked like her ass was a bell." I've done golf - although there is still fertile ground there - and the always thrilling events of old people in retirement. I've cranked out bits on the dog and worked my Past over with a fine toothed comb. I've even revived long forgotten cliches like "fine toothed combs." I need input. Lots of input.

Barring that, you'll get more fiction.

She wore me on her lips and her ass was...I don't know, I couldn't see it from where I was.