I’ll Sleep When I’m Dead

Friday, August 24th, 2012

I have been busy before in my life, but never like this.

On an average day, I

a) write eight pages (a chapter) of my new novel (plus all the research related to the information actually placed on those eight pages)

Dozer begging for an elk burger.

b) walk the dog two or three times

c) clean the house in some fashion, which includes but is not limited to: vacuuming, mopping, wet vacuuming/carpet cleaning, dusting, pillow straightening, stuff putting away-ing, junk mail tossing, fridge emptying, bed making, cat litter box cleaning, sheet and towel washing, toilet scrubbing, etc. etc. etc. etc. ETC. Argh!

d) work on freelance queries

e) work on freelance assignments

f) give a hypnotherapy session

g) work on hypnotherapy-related advertising/marketing/SEO stuff

h) work on developing the seven other sites I have in some stage of development

i) work on totally revamping this site (really! I have been studying advanced WordPress and even took a class: it’s a lot less intimidating now, and I think I can pull it off. Considering this list it won’t be next week, but I think it will be before the end of 2012)

j) entertain/chat with people staying with me

k) write food reviews

l)  eat for food reviews (more time-consuming than you would think. Can I tell you how many “one man show” restaurants and food trucks I’ve eaten at lately where a solo guy is cooking for the whole place? Way too many…)

Poli Poli: a redwood and eucalyptus forest near Kula.

m) work on my garden here at the house

n) work on my garden up in Hai’ilemaile (okay, that one isn’t daily, but on the days it does happen it takes ALL DAY)

o) work out

p) pay bills and other thankless tasks that must be done

q) fret about turning 40

r) pray the already done novel will be read and SOLD (!) soon so I can take a half-dozen items off this list

s) play Words with Friends (okay, okay, I can see where you think this item isn’t necessary, but who will wipe the floor with my friends if I don’t?)

t) answer email (which I’m pretty poor at…and very slow)

u) return phone calls: ditto

v) remember to feed the pets

w) make coffee and cook food

The editor didn’t use this one, but I thought it was kind of funny: the debris left behind by that wood-fired pizza. ;)

x) remember to feed myself

y) clean up the horrible mess that cooking and feeding myself makes of my NO DISHWASHER (**sob**) kitchen

z) shower once in a while and put on clean clothes


Oh, and as of yesterday I want to start my own food truck. I have a truly genius idea. I even have the name. I would run it at lunch time and maybe the occasional weekend night. Now I just need $20K for a food truck…

So should that task be aa or should I just switch to a numbering system? Or switch to a numbering system and stay one step ahead and join AA just in case? Might not be a bad idea to join AAA, too, while I’m at it…


Did I put blogging on this list?

I don’t think so, which  means valuable time is being a-wasted talking to you lovely peeps. Gotta go work on a, c, g, k, p, q, u, x…

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Calling all think tanks

Thursday, October 1st, 2009
I have a huge crush on Tony Bourdain. I love his dry sense of humor.

I have a huge crush on Tony Bourdain. I love his dry sense of humor. And his willingness to eat anything.

I was watching Anthony Bourdain No Reservations, and he was actually in the outer boroughs (which was interesting because he’s a New Yorker, but knew nothing about anything outside Manhattan and parts of Brooklyn), and he was in Staten Island with David Johansen of the New York Dolls and asked him, “What’s great about Staten Island that people don’t know?” and his response was, “We have a lot of think tanks here.”

And that got me thinking.

First, it got me thinking that was one of the most unexpected ‘what’s great about Staten Island’ responses ever. David should get a prize just for saying something so random.

The next time someone asks me what’s great about the town I live in, I’m going to say, “Skunks. We have a lot of skunks.” And it’s both true AND unpredictable. (But if you know anything about what I went through with said skunks, it’s also a wee bit out of character. Oh well. Being impossibly delightful sometimes requires a selective memory.)

See what I mean?

See what I mean?

Second, it got me thinking that David was some kind of long-lost brother or cousin or illegitimate spawn of Mick Jagger. Or the Aerosmith guy. What’s his name again? (***doing some of that impressive thinking I’m about to be known for***) Oh yes, Steven Tyler. Some kind of hybrid baby made out of the rock n’ roll DNA of the both of them. The lips don’t lie.

Then I continued on thinking that the man looks like he has lived a seriously harsh life. You don’t get wrinkles like that playing tennis at the country club all day.

From there, my thoughts turned to how David looked weirdly familiar and although I know what The New York Dolls are in kind of a collective unconscious but not super specific kind of way, I don’t really ‘know’ them. Which is another way of saying, I’m not a big fan or anything – in fact, I’m not entirely sure I’ve ever heard their music – so where could this sense of familiarity possibly come from?

And THEN I started thinking through possible reasons he might be drinking out of a pineapple and why there seemed to be so many tiki bars on Staten Island, and that’s when it occurred to me: I am a thinking machine.

All I DO is think.

Hey! I think I have that belt! And that hot pink t-shirt! And maybe the skirt...  Not the belly, though. Definitely not recognizing the belly.

Hey! I think I have that belt! And that hot pink t-shirt! And maybe the skirt... Not the belly, though. Definitely not recognizing the belly.

I was born to think.

And I was born thinking.

Thinking is my calling.

And all that thinking led me to an obvious and inevitable conclusion:  A think tank should hire me.

And pay me handsomely.

To think.

Now, I know what you’re thinking, and that’s not very nice of you. Don’t scoff at my dreams, bust my balloon, pee on my parade.

A think tank would be damn lucky to have me. Let me break it down for you: I’m sure what they’re used to are all these stuffy, boring, academia types who think exactly the same.

I could come in there, introduce some cultural references and slightly irrelevant trains of thought and get the proverbial blood flowing. And if providing a little ‘eye candy’ were necessary, I can rock a pencil skirt and 4″ heels like nobody’s business and get the actual blood flowing.

So to all think tanks out there: Drop me a line. Give me a jingle. Have your people call my people.

I’m available to work for you…for a price. And not full-time or anything. I’ve got a lot of side projects. And a book I should be editing right now instead of writing this nonsense.

I'm digging the leather coat, David. Come to think of it, if I get this Staten Island think tank job, I should come over. We could share clothes!

I'm digging the leather coat, David. Come to think of it, if I get this Staten Island think tank job, I should come over. We could share clothes!

Oh, and I don’t really want to sit in an office.

Unless your office is somewhere cool (and no, I don’t mean the temperature. I mean cool as in awesome. For example: Staten Island is not cool. Manhattan is cool. Palm Springs, CA is cool. Kilauea, Kauai is cool.

But you’re smart people. You can put some brain power on it and figure out what I might consider cool.)

So, like I was saying, not going to sit in an office more than one or two days a month, not available full-time, willing to wear tight skirts, and of course, I can think it up until smoke comes out of my ears.

Act now.

Operators are standing by.

(A Google search on David Johansen cleared up the familiarity mystery: He has an alter ego called ‘Buster Poindexter’ that had that song “Hot Hot Hot” in the 80′s. How weird is that? Weird, right? That’s what I thought, also. You should probably work for a think tank, too. No really. You’d be good at it. I’m sure you would. That’s what I think, anyway.)


Crazy, right??? Methinks he might have been in 'Scrooged' too. Anyone with me on that?

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Strippers and Oysters and Madonna, oh my!

Friday, May 1st, 2009

I’m in hand-to-hand combat with an abysmal internet connection.

This is only  marginally preferable to no internet connection (i.e. my status for the last couple days).

To catch you up, I’m staying in a little cabin right off the water and shirking all of my primary responsibilities. I’ve come to appreciate that responsibility shirking may be what I was put on this earth to do. That or sleep and have crazy dreams, a skill I possess to a degree that can only be called a gift.

What I was NOT put on this earth to do includes (in no particular order):

  • Downhill ski
  • Salsa dance
  • Keep African Violets alive
  • Anything involving staring into people’s open mouths and touching their teeth.
  • Work on a chain gang
  • Mule drugs across the Mexican border
  • Ultimate fight
  • Snowboard
  • Put false eyelashes on other people
  • Raise pigeons/squab/any other secret code for ‘pigeon’
  • Belly dance
  • Teach at clown school
  • Wrestle midgets in pudding (learned THAT the hard way!)
  • Impersonate Madonna
  • Stalk Madonna
  • Forge checks drawn on any of Madonna’s bank accounts
  • Name hurricanes (although I do feel it’s time we dug into the more ethnic names: Huricanes Beyonce, Cheech, and Plaxico already!)
  • Skateboard professionally
  • Build a rocket ship that actually works
  • Swallow swords
  • Swallow fire
  • Swallow swallows
  • Strip dance

I could go on, but it will get boring, and I care about you too much to do that to you.


However, on the topic of strip dancing, I do have something to share: You see, I remembered something yesterday while I was running in the woods. I’m doing a 12K race on Sunday, and I’ve been running a longer distance than usual – and doing so faster than usual – in the hopes of finishing in under an hour. Thus, I have additional time on my hands with which to think worthless thoughts.


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Something God and I have in common

Sunday, March 15th, 2009
Not necessarily your god, but a god.

I also like to kick back with some bananas and grapes while a little mouse wearing a gold belt brings me tangerines.

I know what you’re thinking.

What could I possibly have in common with God?

I mean, he’s a supreme being; a diety worshipped all over the world. I’m more of a demi-god, worshipped only in certain small villages in Central Africa and within a specific two-block radius of Flint, Michigan.

Well, let me tell you: Beyond our magnificence, munificence, and occasional use of lightening bolts to smote others, God and I share one immutable principle: On Sunday we rest.

Because that’s how we roll.

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Sleep habits of the disenchanted

Thursday, November 20th, 2008

So when I first got home from Turkey, I was widly jet-lagged and fighting to stay awake at 2pm.

Now the pendulum has swung dramatically the other way. I’m going to bed at 2am and rising at the equivalent of 7pm Istanbul time. What a difference three weeks makes.

Stepping back and looking at the situation objectively, I think I’m suffering the effects of no job, no schedule, and no real responsibilities. It’s fun for a few weeks, but there’s a nagging voice in the back of my head that would like to see me get my @ss in gear and develop a plan for managing my time.

Part of the problem is that I can dick around like nobody’s business. If there were a “who can waste the most time surfing the internet” competition, I could very possibly take home of the gold. Ditto for channel surfing, magazine flipping through, phone chatting, book skimming, and dog tug of warring. Alas, this is not how best selling novels are created (at least I doubt it), so starting next week I am developing a time management schedule and sticking to it! And calling all the people I need to call! And writing back to all the people I need to write! And commencing my plan for world domination!

To quote the famous time management expert Alan Lakein, “Time = life; therefore, waste your time and waste of your life, or master your time and master your life.”   Amen to that.

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