Jesus, I need to stop making promises that I’m going to post more regularly. Obviously it’s lies, all lies.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I don’t go into it thinking, “I’m going to lie to these suckers: string ‘em along. Get their hopes up and bilk them for beer money.” It’s not like that at all.
a) I’m not that complicated
b) I was raised Catholic: I experience guilt easily and regularly.
c) It doesn’t work anyway. Beer change purse = empty. (Minus you, Jose. You are currently the only one who *may* receive a Soleil visa. The rest of you: enjoy the strip search at the border. It will be lengthy AND invasive.)
So what excuses can I offer for my lax posting as of late?
I don’t know. Life. Love. The pursuit of happiness.
Actually, that’s not entirely untrue, really. Granted, sleep, scooping of poop, and the pursuit of groceries took up a fair amount of time, as well, but they could probably be categorized under “life”, “love”, and “the pursuit of happiness” – and in that order – and shake out as more or less factual.
I have no idea how to explain myself, so I’ll just grope in the nearing dark here, and we’ll see what shakes out.
I’ve been editing. The new book is out with the first round of readers, and I’ll have some changes to make. Then it will be read again (by new folks…or those who already read can have a second go if they like) and then copy edited and then…God willing…on a New York Times Bestseller list near you.
I’ve been working on my business idea – and let’s just say it’s super out there and involves past lives. (Yes. You heard me: past lives. Go ahead and take a minute to laugh. We’re all friends here.) – with my esteemed mentor/colleague/beloved friend. We’re making progress, and I’m starting to see it coming together in my mind, but somehow it has been more draining than you might imagine.
If you want, check out the website I set up. It’s far from ready, but since I’ve been so neglectful, I feel kind of like I owe you something.
I have a NEW (unrelated) business idea I’m excited about, but that is super top secret, so I’m just going to stop this train of thought before I accidentally say any mo….
Okay, this is the THIRD time I have heard glass breaking outside the window. Although part of me is very curious as to what the hell is going on, the rest of me is too lazy to turn around and find out. Let’s just speculate, shall we?
a) Greek wedding
b) Cathartic glass bottle upon concrete smashing by ragea-holic bum (i.e. Reminds me of an old Homer Simpson lament, “I’m a rage-aholic: I’m addicted to rage-ahol!”)
c) Three-part attempt to break into the Spanish grocery across the street (and in that case, I better get off my duff and get while the getting’s good. Half of my grocery money goes toward the Matiz sardines and Castelvetrano olives [Italian, but they carry them there] sold in that joint.)
So I wrote the above three days ago (and probably should have just hit “publish” but my Macbook – being the testy and unreliable beast that it is – crashed shortly thereafter and I just didn’t have the time or enthusiasm to log back in and finish my thought. This is only relevant because the next night (so two nights ago), the alarms at the Spanish grocery store went off for over an hour. Quel coincidence!
Much like the glass breaking, I didn’t turn around to see what it was for the first twenty or thirty minutes because, well, I’m lazy, as we already discussed. But then eventually I got annoyed enough that I did look, and I could see the some kind of strobe light blinking inside and, of course, my ear drums were thoroughly abused by the unspeakable shrieking of the alarm itself and I was immediately cast back to that hideous dorm room in Glasgow nearly three years ago. However, since there was no obvious broken glass or entry route in the front of the store, going over and availing myself of armfuls of sardines, fig jam, and cava didn’t seem practical…or possible. Plus, there’d be all that guilt to deal with.
In other news, yesterday was – on some counts – one of the worst days of my life, and that drama is still a work in process. I will probably tell you all about it early next week when it is clear whether the situation that is unfolding around me is as bad as it seems or just seemingly bad. It’s probably 50/50 odds that everything will turn out just fine: maybe 40/60 and the 40 is in my favor. However, as the cop put it, “Maybe this will work out. Sometimes people have a shady past and then decide to clean up.”
So I’ll stop short with that tidbit (and the now exceptionally – potentially – relevant title) and the additional clue that my stress and anxiety have to do with my living situation. Above all, you have my absolute promise that the next time I catch you up, it will be both soon and with one hell of a story.
Until then, let me leave you with a thought from Gilda Radner, which feels particularly apropos today.
“I wanted a perfect ending. Now I’ve learned, the hard way, that some poems don’t rhyme, and some stories don’t have a clear beginning, middle, and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what’s going to happen next. Delicious Ambiguity.”