You are currently browsing the monthly archive for August 2010.
I went out with this guy once who ended up blocking me from his phone. He was very tall and good looking and ended up saying he didn’t know how to block people from his phone so it was weird that I was blocked. I just said whatev and let it go because the distance was too far anyway but he was a nice guy basically (aside from blocking me). Anyway, we’ve remained the closest of FB friends. Or at least we’re Facebook friends. Which means we acknowledge each other to some degree. This is a guy who went through a nasty divorce and he said it would be hard for him to get married again. He moved to NW Arkansas in June and had a world wind romance and next thing I know, his Facebook status is Married. I’m happy for him and terribly jealous that I myself have not had a world wind romance that resulted in a manic-induced marriage to someone I barely knew. I mean, it sounds like something that would happen to me but hasn’t. Yet. I have hope, dear readers.
The Boy and I are officially just friends now. Platonic friends. Which I think means we will never see each other again. Truthfully, I’m okay with it.
I don’t know why I feel optimistic but dammit, I feel sure I’m going to find me a good man and be in a happy relationship soon.
There is nothing quite as uniquely satisfying as a good book. A book of the soul, writing that just clicks with some inherent voice in your head. You won’t find me talking about authors’ love sonnets and classics, reciting flowing language that sags and droops like the lost, loose skin that falls in defeat when it’s shed the fat and the filling beneath it.
Perhaps it is enough to say that I like the words and the way the words string together a lullaby, reminding me there are kindred spirits in the world.
The mania conspired to keep me from blogging (too many other things to do, do, do, do), to keep me from you, dear reader. But the truth is I’m less than poetic these days. My poetic plays consist of trazodone-induced neurological blunders, inverting numbers, declaring opposites. All of that is now gone and in its place, a void. A sleepless, hapless place that dreams and thoughts and intentions can’t seem to fill. I’m pretentious not pious. There’s nothing to see here.
In June of last year, Paul Squires participated in a fun survey I sent him with random questions about life and writing. In characteristic fashion, Paul gave engaging, funny, and thoughtful answers. He will be missed.
***
June 14, 2009
Once again, I’ve asked a fantabulous writer and blogger some questions for those of us who are not “in the know” but would like to be.
1. Do you ever take a handful of raisins and eat them quickly because you suspect if you took time to really think about them, you might actually hate raisins?
I savour my raisins. I do, however, swallow my deep fried hedgehogs whole as a result of an unfortunate accident as a child.
2. How the heck does one pronounce “gingatao”? I am at a loss and no medication seems to help me figure it out.
‘ginga’ is Portugese. The first ‘g’ is soft and long and sexy, almost like ‘shh’, and the ‘inga’ is like a German lady. Tao should be pronounced as though it was Dow. Strangely, I have only ever heard one other person say it out loud.
3. How is it you became a writer, dearest?
When I was seventeen I felt far too ugly and ungainly to become an actor so I chose the other career in which one never has to be oneself.
4. How do you get out of a writer’s rut?
Alcohol. (or reading the great writers of the past.)
5-ish. Do Australians really say “crikey”? Also, do you all wrestle alligators? Is it true Australians are zany? Do you think I would fit in in Australia? Do you were funny hats? What is Australia’s stance on clogs? Do you call flip-flops “flip-flops” or “thongs”?
No Australians say Crikey anymore. Many of the old Austalianisms have died out. Noone refers to ladies as ‘sheilas’ anymore. Interestingly the Prime Minister is copping some stick at the moment for using blokey language like ‘fair suck of the sausage, mate.’ Australia also has the highest rate of indigenous language loss of any country. There were thousands of indigenous languages and now there are only handful still in active use, which is a tragedy.
I hope we are not zany, a word I use interchangeably with stupid.
Everyone fits in in Australia, it is one of the most tolerant and multicultural countries anywhere. Like the rest of the world though, we have developed a deep suspicion of Americans which you would have to overcome.
I wear funny hats. At the moment I am wearing a green felt hat.
Our stance on clogs is neutral, our stance in clogs is a little crooked.
We call thongs thongs and the other thongs g-strings.
Thank you for your questions, M’Lady.
I’m sorry my answers weren’t as clever or as funny as Bryan’s but I just woke up on a Monday morning. Have a fantabulous day full of tiny miracles like unexpected flowers blooming,
Paul.
ML’s note: Paul–these answers are not to be compared with Bryan’s. These were YOUR questions to answer and I think you did a mighty fine job, kind sir.
Three posts ago, I wrote about my new dog, Lucy, and showed pics. The vet said she was a lab/hound mix. I’m trying to figure out the hound breed. From looking online, she resembles both a mtn cur and a plott hound. Can you google this and tell me what you think because I can’t stop obsessing over it.
Describe Medicated Lady’s mental state of late:
Crazier than normal. For example, when I told you that you appeared completely sane the other night, you thought I meant exactly that. In fact, I meant you were exceptionally crazy.
What breed do you think Lucy is (aside from part lab)? Meximo.
How do you feel knowing that Lucy was at one point shot? Disgusted.
Have seen the results from losing 0.4 lbs in the last four weeks, is ML going to really get after WW now? For the next two hours, yes.
How much does Medicated Lady love your spaghetti? If you hadn’t made it wear a prophylactic, you’d be with child right now.
Do you think Medicated Lady is narcissistic in any way? In every way.
My oldest daughter, Poppy, doesn’t qualify for health insurance.
Website says, We’re sorry. My daughter’s age and/or pre-existing condition(s) disqualify her for true coverage but as a soft sendoff, I could purchase an “accident only” plan, which would not cover hospitalization or the setting of bones or the stitching of wounds. It would “cover” a lady bug bite.
This is a true story.
Ramblings of a Medicated Lady: Words of Woe by Loria Taylor 
Your Sympathies: