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Earlier this week in a phone conversation with ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
thebrownhornet he was complaining about the decline of Writer's Digest. I thought he said Reader's Digest. We had a five minute conversation going back and forth about how and why it's become awful before we realized we were talking about two different things. Except our points applied to both.
This morning I got an e-mail from Writer's Digest about a short story contest that I'm considering submitting, except I'm often opposed to writing contests that require entrance fees. It's only ten bucks though, and since most of the material in Writer's Digest strikes me as inane, maybe I have a good chance of winning the cash prizes offered for the top three slots. Unless of course I don't get chosen because I'm not boring and conservative.
The alarm went off at 5:45 am this morning because Lowenstein has a trial today she needed to prepare for. For the next hour or so before she left, I was half-awake, half-dreaming. I dreamt about the gift idea I had yesterday and how I was talking to someone who was part of the gift idea who was helping me, and then I started this sexual affair with the woman that lasted a couple weeks in December but I had to keep it a secret from Lowenstein because if I told her how we met, I'd have to reveal the surprise gift, but I didn't want her to think I was hiding a lover out of deceit or spite, since it wasn't a serious affair. For me at least -- she was married and I'm not sure what their arrangement was. In my dream, I woke up as the front door was shutting and I felt sad that Lowenstein left without saying goodbye. So I called her cell phone to tell her about my dream and she was still outside the house, examining her car which had been smashed along with other parked cars on our street during the night. I watched her through the windows while we talked on the phone about the dream and the accident. She seemed fairly nonplussed about the state of her car but not angry or upset.
Then I woke up for real and saw the bathroom light on and realized she hadn't left yet and I almost called her into the bedroom so I could tell her all of my dreams, but once again, that would have revealed the surprise gift.
All this is a convaluted way of revealing that my unconscious has a horrible time keeping secrets about myself, particularly from those people in my life I'm closest too. I can keep your secret fine, just not my own.
In Other NewsTM, I'm obsessed with reading memoirs right now. Also, is it weird that I get really turned on everytime I look at my journal and see Julianne licking that sword? I guess I've been known to lick knives myself.
thebrownhornet he was complaining about the decline of Writer's Digest. I thought he said Reader's Digest. We had a five minute conversation going back and forth about how and why it's become awful before we realized we were talking about two different things. Except our points applied to both. This morning I got an e-mail from Writer's Digest about a short story contest that I'm considering submitting, except I'm often opposed to writing contests that require entrance fees. It's only ten bucks though, and since most of the material in Writer's Digest strikes me as inane, maybe I have a good chance of winning the cash prizes offered for the top three slots. Unless of course I don't get chosen because I'm not boring and conservative.
The alarm went off at 5:45 am this morning because Lowenstein has a trial today she needed to prepare for. For the next hour or so before she left, I was half-awake, half-dreaming. I dreamt about the gift idea I had yesterday and how I was talking to someone who was part of the gift idea who was helping me, and then I started this sexual affair with the woman that lasted a couple weeks in December but I had to keep it a secret from Lowenstein because if I told her how we met, I'd have to reveal the surprise gift, but I didn't want her to think I was hiding a lover out of deceit or spite, since it wasn't a serious affair. For me at least -- she was married and I'm not sure what their arrangement was. In my dream, I woke up as the front door was shutting and I felt sad that Lowenstein left without saying goodbye. So I called her cell phone to tell her about my dream and she was still outside the house, examining her car which had been smashed along with other parked cars on our street during the night. I watched her through the windows while we talked on the phone about the dream and the accident. She seemed fairly nonplussed about the state of her car but not angry or upset.
Then I woke up for real and saw the bathroom light on and realized she hadn't left yet and I almost called her into the bedroom so I could tell her all of my dreams, but once again, that would have revealed the surprise gift.
All this is a convaluted way of revealing that my unconscious has a horrible time keeping secrets about myself, particularly from those people in my life I'm closest too. I can keep your secret fine, just not my own.
In Other NewsTM, I'm obsessed with reading memoirs right now. Also, is it weird that I get really turned on everytime I look at my journal and see Julianne licking that sword? I guess I've been known to lick knives myself.
