14 February, 2006

Hot News

...how quiet, quiet the world can be/When it's just you and little me/Everything is clear and everything is new....

For several blissful hours, the sound of police helicopters in the skies above my neighborhood was remarkably absent. I suppose the snowstorm kept them grounded.

And yes, though some details are highlighted for drama or omitted for continuity, I'm no James Frey and this is the bald truth. This is where I live.

Still, kids in the hood like downhill sledding as well as anyone, and my son was not the only one with a snowboard. Fuzzy seemed to take to it better than Fluff; he was concerned with the safety of the hill's other occupants and sabbotaged his runs in favor of carefulness more than once. He put on his helmet and his Harry Potter Quiddich Goggles . For safety, he said.

In other news, Moira Egan was recieved well by the MWA and I want her to be my new girlfriend.

Also, I'm re-reading Lynne Truss’ fine book, Eats, Shoots and Leaves, which is about punctuation in the English language, current usage.

Seventy seven thousand customers in Maryland were without power after the snowstorm, one of them my own Coco. I visit her, bringing a book to comfort her most recent injury, a broken wrist: Infinite Jest, by the man with three first names, which is not to be approached casually.

A lot of it is him showing off his chops, haha, look what I can do with prose, nyanny-nyanny.

"That's all right, as long as it's good."

Yes. We chat about this and that, then things in general, and wander back to this and that. We talk about our dirty secret.

You may wonder what sort of dirty secrets wild women would carry. We're in theatre, fercryinoutloud, and have associated with the RenFest. What could possibly qualify as a dirty secret? Drinking? Not even. Drug use in our past or present? Expected. Predilection for kinky sex? I think our steadfast, rabid, kinky monogomy is probably viewed with amusement rather than shock. A history of abuse? We’d hardly be interesting without some. No, avant garde artistes such as we need something wildly improbable in order to shock.

Think needles.

And yarn.


(Don't Leave Home; Dido)


Anonymous said...

I loved Eats, Shoots and Leaves. But I'm funny that way.

Well, I'm funny in lots of ways. And not just amusing ways either.


You clandestine knitter you!

Paul said...

If I send you dimensions, will you knit me a sweater?

(The last time I made that request, a deep green sweater arrived some months later. Never hurts to ask.)

Cybele said...

Robert, you are funny in lots of ways, and I love them.

Paul, I'm only up to scarves and hats yet. Sorry, no dice on the sweater.

Paul said...

Hey, I can always use a hat! (I still have all of my hair, but that doesn't always stop my head from getting cold, ya know?)

Pleeeeease?... *batting eyes*