Tuesday, July 18, 2006

Summertime, And The Livin' Is (Not) Easy



It's about a million degrees out. I don't do very well in high heat and it won't take much to set me off like a 4th of July firecracker; i.e., ignited straight into bee-yotchdom. I'm really hoping everybody behaves 'til the heat wave breaks. If it breaks. If it doesn't, I may be tempted to drown myself. At least, I'd be cool.

I'm already in a bit of a snit, and praying the Neener-Neener gods are through playing with me now. I'm not saying anything personal -- this is public and I've learned my lesson on that front. Suffice it to say that because of one relative doing one thing that dramatically affects me, influenced by another relative to not change his plans, plans I've had lined up for the past four months are now in the trash. I'm not happy about it. It seems to be out of my hands, though, so about all I can do is roll with it. Why the hell can't stuff like this happen in the Winter when I'd be too busy trying to keep warm to fret about the stuff I can't change? Instead, it waits 'til the world is about to spontaneously combust, a time when my mood is cranky, emotions on red alert, and my inner voice is screaming at me to hide all the sharp objects.

Oh, well. What's done is done. I'll say this, though -- if any of the other stuff that's been heaped on my head lately is repeated, I know where those sharp objects are.

The heat doesn't stop our fearless Word Outlaws, of course. In fact, the hotter it gets, the more crime we see on the streets. And literary streets are no exception. These characters were rousted today and tossed into Prose Prison to await arraignment on charges of malicious word mangling:


Working on my third (story) of lately. (We fear it's already too late, dear.)

Templet. (We're stumped by this one. I think it's got to be a baby temple. One of my buddies thinks it may be a temporary, probably illegal, sub-let.)

It don't matter. (No, not no more, it don't.)

Embarrassement. (My sentiments exactly when reading this contributor's pap.)

Not to late. (Perhaps not, but it's too late for that one.)

1 comment:

Rob said...

I can't imagine reading through so much garbage in a day. I hope that your novel is a runaway best seller and you won't have to put up with the editing anymore (apart from the writer's worst nightmare,--their own writing.)