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That Was The Week That Was: Week Twenty-Three

Folks, this isn’t going to be a very long introduction, as I’m getting to this pretty late in the eve, and for many a good reason.  Though this was my first week of summer break, it was a week of working and running around at break-neck speed trying to get all my stuffs did.  Seriously: the page for this week on my planner is pretty much solid black right now.  Thankfully, that’s because I actually got to cross things off of my list because I actually finished them.  Or kind of finished them.  Close-enough-finished them.

That’s part of the reason I’m late getting to this: things needed to get did.  Also, I’ve decided to once again try my luck at The Grind, the poem/paragraph/page/piece/revision a day project described eloquently by my own personal Poetry Superhero, Mr. Ross White.  Let’s hope this helps me settle into a revision schedule as rigorous as my writing schedule was earlier this year.

Next, I know that it seems as though the Internet has become one chorus of a million voices letting out a primal scream about this subject, but, really, it’s justified, so let me add my voice: it is hot.  I mean, HOT.  I mean, hotter than hotter-than-fifteen-hells hot.  It’s so hot that Alice finally gave up this evening and did this for a while, staring at the back porch with a curious feline combination of rage, disappointment, and ennui:

Alice B. Toklas takes life’s insults really, really hard.

And, of course, The Real Housewives of New Jersey is almost on and this one is going to involve Theresa going to therapy and I am not missing that FOR THE WORLD.  Because, um, I’m interested in cultural attitudes towards talking cures.  Of course.  Yeah.  Of course.

Without further ado: photo time!

Day 177: I’m always driving around and seeing something incredibly beautiful and thinking to myself, Hey, that’d make a really spectacular photo, then driving off. I resolved this week to actually take the photos instead of just thinking of them. Here’s my first attempt at sticking to that resolution.

Day 178: There are four things I love deeply in this mad life of mine: 1. shoes, 2. crazy nail polish, 3. changing the words to songs to words relevant to my current circumstances, and 4. Lana Del Rey. This photograph represents a dizzying combination of these four loves, in that I put these on, found that they matched my nail polish, and began singing Su-su-su-summertime summertime sandals in my joy.

Day 179: This is an extension of the revelation I had in the caption for Day 177. I was kind of bummed because I didn’t have any ideas for a photo of the day this day. Then I went outside to put a humiliatingly large number of Diet Coke cans in my recycling bin, and this tiny, perfect little pine-cone was sitting on the lid. There’s no better photo than such a beauty of a coincidence.

Day 180: Let me now praise the Little Caesars Pizza Pizza Guitar Player Guy, who every day stands on the sidewalk and jams the ever-loving everything OUT, who is stopped neither by rain nor excessive heat nor by the fact that his cardboard guitar is not an actual guitar. Little Caesars Pizza Pizza Guitar Playing Guy, thank you for all you do. You may be a dude pretending to play a cardboard guitar to some, but to me, you’re every bit as awesome as Slash is when he’s playing a solo outside the church in the “November Rain” video.

Day 181: I was serious when I said I planned to read every book Lorrie Moore’s published this summer — and here I am, on the last one, which is signed. Signed. Signed! Look — see that? That there? That’s Lorrie Moore’s handwriting. Her actual handwriting. Like, the handwriting she used to write “People Like That Are The Only People Here.” Sure, it’s not signed to me or anything, but still. Still. Signed.

Day 182: Hey Sour Patch Kids, I’m really glad you’re gluten-free. I couldn’t have written an academic article without you. Let’s hold hands and sing the Golden Girls theme-song. Before I eat you all, of course.

Day 183: I’m putting together a course packet for my Creative Nonfiction class. It’s getting intense. I think the photo speaks for itself.

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