more writer talk than usual, i mean, who gives a shit
2008-01-13 1:24 a.m.

favorite pastimes

-thinking about the etymology of "pastime." pass the time? past times?

-looking at the facebook profiles of people i knew in the past (times) and thinking, "gee whiz i wish i could get a guy like that!" snort

-peppermint-flavored products, and how i love them

-cinnamon-flavored products, and how i hate them

-the unbearable emptiness in my life. thump.

-counting the people i know in NYC that i could visit for the upcoming writers' conference.

-estimating how long before my hair returns to its natural color

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last night was bad, no secrets there, but then i had a dream where i was strapped in a chair and a strange, pale man with large eyes began to eat my hand, starting at the knuckles. i screamed and i woke up. this could be considered a nightmare.

the only reason i share this with you is because my workshop leader this semester says writing down dreams is not a bad way to start. as long as they're interesting.

this is the rule. which we are to follow and never forget. it is, i think, an excellent rule. unless one is plagued by the little whispering brain bats which insist one is uninteresting. and then it's useless. i think many people suffer from whispering brain bats.

personally, i have a farm.

one gets to the point where one knows a lot about writing--okay, that was not modest--one knows more about writing than one did when one began, and one is bogged down by the volume of rules, guidelines, and little things to keep in mind. the mind is overstuffed. this happens to me constantly. i deal with it by only reading about writing in chunks. so i will not read criticism or literary theory or interviews with writers in this spring.

the only way i can write, really, is using intuition. yes, i can read instructional things and hope they seep in to the point of becoming intuition. until they pass that point of consciousness, they are just those winged rodents.

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enough of that. let us speak of hot donuts.

in krispy kreme they make the "gator donut" which has orange and blue sprinkles. i tried to take a picture but my camera phone has no flash.

my camera phone has let me down many times. i should name my camera phone! i know just what to name it! o my heavens i am clever! where will i ever find a man to keep up with my cleverness!

we're all into exclamation points these days, but it's mostly ironic. we're all into irony these days, but we like our donuts unironic-- it's so magical to watch them be made.

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finally a note on the title. "i mean, who gives a shit." this is what daniel says to me when he is drunk. it's usually appropriate.

daniel and i have a system worked out where i say things that concern me, and he brushes them off. then i roll my eyes and imply he's inconsiderate, or he doesn't get it, or listen i know my life's concerns are trivial but bear with me. then he gives me a drawing, or he writes me a fake check using chris's brother's leftover american checks (?) for the amount of "all the money in the world," or he throws a pen at me to show me he cares.

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and another note about dan. here is a story i told tonight which chris says should be my facebook profile (instead of books, movies, quotes, about me etc.):

one time daniel and i went to dairy queen and we saw a guy with a really big butt.