Sometimes I buy a rotisserie chicken and just rip into it like a velociraptor. I douse the whole thing in salt and tear the limbs off of it. I slice the meat off in huge hunks. The only eating utensil I use is a knife. Soon, only bones remain. Then I go outside and scream my triumph to the neighborhood. Well, not so much scream triumphantly, as go in the bathroom and wash the grease off my chin.
I am ridiculously vain about my hair. Strangers will come up to me and compliment my hair, sometimes, ask me where I get it done. I tell them, and smile, and thank them, but secretly under my hair I am thinking, "Hellz yeah, it's gorgeous! It is a Love Mane! I have the power! Good luck getting yours to look like this!" I am such an asshole about it. I think God (if he ever comes out of my iPod) will probably make me bald to teach me a lesson, just like He made me leave the sunglasses I was so vain about in the bathroom at Fiumicino Airport in Rome. Photo: SG & her sister TT on TT's wedding day
In my dreams, I can fly. But I never soar high in a kettle of hawks, as I should. I just get a really good running start, lift my legs, and soar for short distances across the ground. So I guess it isn't really flying, more like gliding. Yes, in my dreams I am basically a bipedal, land-based flying fish. Sometimes I crash into a bush. My dreams suck.
Years ago, at a convention in Springfield, Massachusetts, I met this man. He had one talent: the ability to hang sideways on a light post. He could hang like this for several minutes. It was quite impressive; a real traffic-stopper. I think about his upper arm strength a lot, and how handy that would have come in with all the babies we could have had together. Ha ha! Not really (yes really)!
I am just amazed by his gymnastic feats (& arms) is all.
I almost can't believe what a babe I was when I was in 8th grade. Check it out! Do you like the glasses? I still have them. I use them for starting emergency fires when I get stranded.
This has been another trip on the seemingly endless river of consciousness. I owe these entries to my longish commute; you'd be amazed what spills out of your deepest psyche when you're stuck behind a school bus for 3 miles.