I’ve been working very hard on my memoirs. I’ve already written 26,000 words (out of a goal of 75,000) in under a month. The memories are flowing like a fine merlot. Not that I’ve ever drank merlot, but we do have some Kentucky bourbon downstairs.
I keep listening to Duran Duran’s “Come Undone“, which I’m sort of in love with. “Who do you need–who do you love–when you come undone?” I love that part. But broadly speaking, I have no clue what the lyrics are about.
I feel like I’ve been trapped in a time warp. I feel it could be helpful for me to write my memoirs. In a sense, sometimes once something’s written, it’s gone. It reminds me of how I never play the piano songs I recorded once. I still play the ones I composed, but I never play the other ones that I worked hard to record. I have a weird intuitive feeling about my love life that I can’t quite articulate. The guy I like–we’ve been talking on and off, mostly off, but I have this sense that there’s potential there. It’s still nascent which is fine–I’m in no rush–but I just think he’s nice and sweet, and I’ve never seen any evidence of him being aggressive or unkind or remotely unlikable. And that video… ladies, the video speaks for itself, ya hear me?
I hope he likes me and that he and I can connect at least in some capacity. He’s as far away in proximity as he could be, short of being in outer space. But life is always unpredictable and surprising. Well, my life is.
The iffing (intermittent fasting) is going great! Yesterday, I somehow managed to go 24 hours without eating. Go me! I ate breakfast, and dinnertime came, and I wasn’t hungry, so I just kept going until this morning.
Oh, how lovely, he just emailed me! He’s excited about the contest we’re in now. YAY! He offered to beta read for me if I make it to the next round. That’s nice! See, life can be great. There we go.
I wonder if he likes Duran Duran? I never grew up listening to them, but I heard good things about them as a kid. They do indeed rock.
Well, I feel all warm and cozy now. Ooh. 😀 I emailed him a few days ago while I was a total mess, and I doubted he’d answer, but he did. Well, I didn’t tell him I was a mess. I just said how fun I thought it would be if those of us from the forum could get together for a murder mystery weekend. It could open with a staged, faux fight between two forumites who are, from all appearances, meeting each other for the first time.
Insults could fly. “You’re a horrible writer! You don’t know your way around a dictionary to save yourself.”
“How dare you?! Take that back, or I’ll…”
“I’ll kill you off in my novel!”
The rest of us all gasp, and when one of them winds up dead later, we have to prove the other’s innocence because the real killer is still at large, and no one’s safe. HA HA HA H AH A. Yeah, I came up with that while I was comatose and emotionally checked out. Go figure. Sometimes my mind goes to a strange place.
He wrote back and said that no one would get along for real at such a retreat, and we talked about forum politics a bit. No major dishing, but the feeling on the forum that some people aren’t all that nice.
Well, I’ve been resting all weekend, so hopefully tomorrow I can kick it into gear and clean my room at long last. Let’s hope so. I changed one word in my subtitle… Breathing in Tight Spaces: A Look at Childhood Sexuality, Physical Abuse, and Mental Illness. I added “physical” because the wrong implication is there otherwise of, like, sexual abuse. I’ve been writing about the way pop culture was heavily laden with spanking stories the whole time I was growing up. Everywhere I looked, someone was talking about it, it was on TV, it was in a book, it was someone else’s experience, etc., etc., etc. And I have a beautiful memory of all of it, so I think my book has a great premise for a memoir that no one else’s has. Woo hoo!