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I accidentally had sex on valentine's day. I didn't mean to, it just happened. There were no roses or hot tubs involved.
I liked valentine's day as a kid, because it involved giving and getting mail and homemade mailboxes. It also meant usually waking up to something left as a surprise on my dresser from my mother, like candy and a card, though one year she gave me two bendable Fido Dido characters which really impressed me, as I didn't know she was aware I was so into Fido Dido at the time, nor was he a character that ever became hugely popular or marketed. (I just read the wikipedia article when I went to google a picture, and find it hilarious that at one point in my teen years I was "into Fido Dido". I think it's because I bought a t-shirt on the streets of NYC with him on it and I wore it all the time.)
I used to think when I grew up Valentine's day would be about going out to dinner and slow dancing to someone singing me an Anita Baker song. I could take or leave the holiday, but I'd still take the latter. Or you can sing Patti Austin. Or Melba Moore. Or Randy Crawford. Or Patti Labelle. Or really just any R&B song by a solo singer between the years of 1980 and 1992. Hence me currently listening to Pandora and my "Anita Baker" station in honor of the holiday as how my pre-teen self dreamed for my adult self.
I've been without a novel to a read for the past few weeks, feeling ambivalent about what to jump to next, partly because my last one was so dense and I needed to breathe a minute. I've been carrying around J.M. Coetzee's Slow Man for a few days, which, since it's Coetzee, I'm assuming is physically an easy read, but thematically maybe not, hence my hesitation. I'm taking in bunches of short stories. Dear gentle readers, I have been recommended Alice Munro by people who's opinion I generally find favorable, but I have only read maybe one story by her, and it was okay but very much This Is A Short Story. And today I started one but just got bored and gaggy, it was again, such a Short Story, with its married couple driving to something and seeing something on the side of the road and then one of them gets cancer and they try to go back to the country road and blah blah blah literary something blah blah. Zzzzz. I had just read a Donald Barthelme story about an adult man who inexplicably finds himself back in the sixth grade and ends with him having sex with the teacher in the closet. It was weird and hilarious and playful and smart. Perhaps I'm just not in the mood for Alice Munro or perhaps I'm just never in the mood for her. Unless you, gentle readers, have a favorite you can recommend.
Omg, "Love Power" just came on. I need to do this at karaoke. I wouldn't even mind being Jeffrey Osbourne, you could Dionne. Oh wait, never mind, I want to do the part when she sings "....or can we get it there?"
(Ok, fine, you can be Dionne.)
I liked valentine's day as a kid, because it involved giving and getting mail and homemade mailboxes. It also meant usually waking up to something left as a surprise on my dresser from my mother, like candy and a card, though one year she gave me two bendable Fido Dido characters which really impressed me, as I didn't know she was aware I was so into Fido Dido at the time, nor was he a character that ever became hugely popular or marketed. (I just read the wikipedia article when I went to google a picture, and find it hilarious that at one point in my teen years I was "into Fido Dido". I think it's because I bought a t-shirt on the streets of NYC with him on it and I wore it all the time.)
I used to think when I grew up Valentine's day would be about going out to dinner and slow dancing to someone singing me an Anita Baker song. I could take or leave the holiday, but I'd still take the latter. Or you can sing Patti Austin. Or Melba Moore. Or Randy Crawford. Or Patti Labelle. Or really just any R&B song by a solo singer between the years of 1980 and 1992. Hence me currently listening to Pandora and my "Anita Baker" station in honor of the holiday as how my pre-teen self dreamed for my adult self.
I've been without a novel to a read for the past few weeks, feeling ambivalent about what to jump to next, partly because my last one was so dense and I needed to breathe a minute. I've been carrying around J.M. Coetzee's Slow Man for a few days, which, since it's Coetzee, I'm assuming is physically an easy read, but thematically maybe not, hence my hesitation. I'm taking in bunches of short stories. Dear gentle readers, I have been recommended Alice Munro by people who's opinion I generally find favorable, but I have only read maybe one story by her, and it was okay but very much This Is A Short Story. And today I started one but just got bored and gaggy, it was again, such a Short Story, with its married couple driving to something and seeing something on the side of the road and then one of them gets cancer and they try to go back to the country road and blah blah blah literary something blah blah. Zzzzz. I had just read a Donald Barthelme story about an adult man who inexplicably finds himself back in the sixth grade and ends with him having sex with the teacher in the closet. It was weird and hilarious and playful and smart. Perhaps I'm just not in the mood for Alice Munro or perhaps I'm just never in the mood for her. Unless you, gentle readers, have a favorite you can recommend.
Omg, "Love Power" just came on. I need to do this at karaoke. I wouldn't even mind being Jeffrey Osbourne, you could Dionne. Oh wait, never mind, I want to do the part when she sings "....or can we get it there?"
(Ok, fine, you can be Dionne.)
