Howdy.
Remember that crazy flurry of a week early last December when I realized that part of shamelessly nominating a post from your blog for inclusion in a collection and actually getting it accepted for publication means that the URL will be printed and sent out to a bunch of people you've never met, which means that one day* you'll come home from a walk downtown to find an e-mail in your inbox containing a newsletter from Creative Nonfiction that trumpets the soon-to-be-released anthology and includes a link to your blog?
And even though you know nothing will really change, and nobody's actually interested in reading about your obsession with chronicling your own life and the exploits of your stupid dog except for a few friends and family members, and oh yeah, if you were so worried about this anyway, you could have:
a) not nominated yourself;
b) transferred all the personal shit to a different URL;
c) asked that nice psychiatrist for a higher dosage
--you still sort of feel like you've stepped out to check the mail not wearing any pants, just a long shirt that you slept in, and as you're reaching for your Netflix, your neighbor pops her head over the fence to ask if you could cat-sit this upcoming weekend, and then your landlords pull up to the curb with that copy of the lease they've been promising they'd drop off, and a parade of your former and current students turns down the block, and the door slam shuts behind you and YOUR KEYS, YOU IDIOT, ARE NOT IN YOUR POCKETS BECAUSE YOU DON'T HAVE ANY POCKETS, YOU ARE NOT WEARING ANY PANTS, REMEMBER HOW THE BASIC RULE OF OUR SOCIETY, SAVE A FEW EXCEPTIONS, IS ALWAYS TRY TO WEAR PANTS OUTSIDE OF YOUR APARTMENT?
Ahem. I realize I am ridiculous, and sounding not at all thankful for what is a very cool publishing opportunity. Just give me a day or so here, and then I'll process this a little bit, and then step out to retrieve the mail all confident, wearing fancy space pants. If you know where I live, might as well line up on the sidewalk now. Space pants are not to be missed.
*today, as it turn out
Hells yeah.
ReplyDeleteThis anthology is a bloomin' book?
Are the space pants ass-less? Or else I'm not coming.
Space chaps.
If you were to walk into a law firm in Kato on 2nd street right now, you would see a receptionist at the front desk grinning like a loony. A receptionist unable to stop smiling, sometimes punctuating it with a titter or giggle.
ReplyDeleteIt was the parade: picturing your former and current students in marching band outfits, blowing tunelessly into tubas and trombones, and one of them (Merlin?) with a big feathered hat and giant um....one of these things.
Note to kid in picutre: Not only is your outfit silly, it is too large. Please select ridiculous clothing that fits.
Too funny. I nearly went on about the parade for a while, mentioning kazoos and whatnot, but then even I couldn't follow it. But yes. Nothing is more ridiculous than ill-fitting nonsense clothes.
ReplyDelete