[I] may be crazy but I'm the closest thing I have to a voice of reason.

21 March 2010

**This is the New Shit**

How cool is this: “Pisces [that’s me], you’ve got a mandate to fatten up your soul. So gravitate toward situations that incite you to express the most daring brand of innocence and the most benevolent wickedness you can imagine.”

I can get behind that. Hell, I am that. And while I’m guessing that fattening up my soul has little or nothing to do with cookies or donuts, I can now feel better about that brand of fattening, too. Hey, somebody’s got to eat them. The economy needs us to continue consuming, does it not?

I have the most fun expressing this so-called daring brand of innocence and benevolent wickedness posting music on BLIP.fm, and I’ve had too little time there as of late. When one door opens, it gets harder to find enough time to run in and out of two doors, no three doors, no four! An embarrassment of riches is what they call this, but I’m not embarrassed. I’m just tired and disorganized - no organizationally handicapped - and tired, did I say tired? The shaman warned me, but I laughed. Ha-Ha!! I have been death warmed over before, I said. Be careful what you say you can handle.

Today the best I could do was drag my ass out of bed after eight hours of sleep, which culminated at noon, and focus on un-tornado-izing my place before my BFF got here for his belated birthday meal. Cap it off with a little social media and I’m toast. No, I’m Zwieback; a crispy critter.

Yesterday I did things out of order. Exhausted - again! - at the gym, I came home to take a salt bath, which is a simple but highly effective detox. One box of salt, cool water (I use hot, but the recipe says cool), some lavender essence, twenty minutes to an hour. Ding! You’re clean inside and out. No really, it is just that simple. There’s a reason the ancients used salt to preserve. Salt is a universal cleanser for all things physical, energetic, and psychic. Usually when I take a salt bath it is very late and when I get out I pour myself directly into bed, but yesterday I did things out of order. I ate lunch while in the tub, fruit with custard and yogurt - not junk food! - and after my bath I sat in the afternoon sun on my deck. I never sit out in the sun. Every once in awhile I squint at it from the window in front of my computer; oh, yeah, daylight. But yesterday I sat on my deck and, starting the cocktail hour early, I called family.

Perhaps it was the bourbon, but yesterday I enjoyed telling family about my plans and accomplishments, including getting my 1k badge on BLIP, which still thrills me like a diamond ring from a Cracker Jack box. Like sitting in the sun, this just never happens - the enjoying talking with family part - because when asked, I do say what I’m up to and then I listen to the brief silence that follows, and then we go directly back to our regularly scheduled programming, by which I mean whatever the other person was talking about. It’s amusing, really. Whenever I talk about my work, I am for all intents and purposes a momentary blank in the phone reception. Can you hear me now? Perhaps I should always start family phone calls with a cocktail. Perhaps that is why my mother drinks.

I did not plan to rest and renew myself yesterday. Believe me, if I had it would have been a lot of work and I would not have enjoyed it. The whole rest and renew thing sounds, to me, like a fancy way of saying you should eat more vegetables. Yeah. Sure. Of course. And then I wander off in the direction of my computer screen, just let me do this one last..... There are supposed to be two kinds of people who work at home, those who don’t know how to get started and those who don’t know how to stop. I relate to both. In this life I have two speeds, fast and stop, or as I have been practicing them lately, full speed ahead and collapse. For months now, the shaman has been doing the fancy shaman version of “So how’s that working for you?” Don’t bother me, I’m trying to get something done here.

But yesterday, I didn’t do that. Yesterday, I couldn’t do that. Yesterday my body sat my ass down in the tub, and then afterward, planted it in front of the sun. After an hour or two of that, I didn’t feel like I had to get much of anything done. I’d say that I felt serene, but I didn’t notice feeling that way, I just was. When the last of the sun left the deck, I came in and sat down to catch up on social media, just a little, and suddenly all things literary and blog-ish were making their way to my doorstep. Just like that. In the space of half an hour, I connected with enough writers, blog sites, literary magazines, and publishing recommendations to stock me up with a week’s worth of reading. Planning and researching for weeks could not have yielded as much.

And then I sat down to write this blog. The four paragraphs with yesterday in the first sentence? Yeah, those got written yesterday. Then my brain quit. I sat here for another... year.... and I wrote or rewrote or read or something, but the blog just would not be finished. Would. Not. Be. Finished. Finally I admitted defeat and rather than post what I had, I went to bed where I slept a death-like, dreamless sleep. I think it was sleep. I woke this morning - per force, the phone ringing - but I never woke up. I haven’t woken up for weeks now, and my shaman is as thrilled about this as my trainer is about sweat. Really, she loves it when she makes me sweat.

Note to self: You asked for this. So now that you’re here, what do you plan to do?

I’ve been debating the merits of serializing the second chapter of The Movie Lovers. While it could be done in five installments, I haven’t been certain that it lends itself to being chopped up that way, and some of the installments would be long by blog standards, but what the hell. I mean, the mash up is my new darling; my new framework for this pimped out, cookie fueled, spiritually mainlined, suck-ass tired life I’m leading.

Sinfully innocent? Benevolently wicked? You ain’t seen nothing yet.

Evanescence v Marilyn Manson [MashUp] Going Under - **This Is The New Shit**
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