This
weekend, I find myself banging my head against the wall over these
new poems I’m working on. With both of them, I think I’m trying
to do too many things in too small of a space, and I’m getting all
tangled and twisted up in confusing metaphors involving fire and
churning waters and clarity of mind and the Trapezius. (That’s the
big triangular muscle in your upper back, in case you didn’t know.)
Also, Glut
Bridges,
although that’s a separate poem and will be a bit more...cheeky.
Ha! (If I can’t write a proper poem I can at least crack myself up
with a terrible pun.) I know it will all come together, but I’m
very frustrated at the moment. It’s all in there, I can
feel it, but it won’t
come out
right. Argh! I need a writers-frustration
helmet to keep me from bruising my forehead.
I’m
also frustrated about the crocodiles. Of
late, I
have been playing lots of
vintage Tomb Raider while waiting with baited breath for the
award-winning Divinity: Original Sin 2 to go on sale...and it finally
did! I downloaded it
with great excitement, only to find that’s it just as hair-pulling
as trying to write poems. This
is directly related to the crocodiles. You
see, because
one
bad apple summoned a demon, an
authoritarian government
rounded up all of us sorcerers and stuck us on a
prison island and put sorcery-inhibiting
collars on us so we can’t sorcer-er properly. But this one guy,
we’ll call him Not-at-All-Shady
Ed, claims
that he knows of a special
artifact that he can use to teleport us off the island. Only there’s
a catch: It’s hidden on a crocodile-infested dune. So
I was all like, pfhht, crocodiles, who cares, I can take down some
crocs, no problemo. And I marched off to said dune and proceeded to
get my ass handed to me repeatedly.
These crocodiles are mean
and
they are equipped. They set me on fire, chomped me in half, and may
have possibly electrocuted
me. And my super-special
spell barely puts a dent in them. This is one of those times when I
remember
why I got married. I poured out my crocodile woes to Mr. Typist, and
he has
promised to watch the next battle with
an eagle eye
and give me pointers. So
maybe at least one thing will go right this week.
I
know
that complaining about clothing
shops has
become a cliché on this blog, but I must once again gripe about the
appalling state of retail in this country. Mr. Typist and I headed
off to Ubiquitous Big Box Store recently to replace a glass
light dome that alarmingly fell
and
shattered
into pieces in the dead of night in our kitchen. Since
we were already going there, I announced my intent to buy A Few Items
to Freshen Up My Wardrobe—because apparently, I am a fool who never
learns. The
selection was a disgusting, utterly uninspiring collection of the
boring, flouncy, dull, frumpy and totally unimaginative. I
couldn’t bring myself to purchase a single thing, despite
my daily despair when I open my closet and stare at the same fifteen
to twenty items I’ve worn repeatedly for the last nine years. I
think some of my issue is that
due to my childhood, I feel extremely self-conscious about wearing
the same clothes too many times. My mom reads this blog sometimes and
I don’t want her to feel bad about this (Hi, Mom! Don’t feel
bad!), but there were five children
and obviously
as
a result not
a lot of money to spend on flashy designer wardrobes. And kids are
total jerks and
savages,
so I got made fun of and
bullied constantly
for
wearing the same things over and over again. But my personal
childhood
shame
nonetheless does not excuse retailers
from doing their due diligence in at least providing something
wearable to their customer base. Even Mr. Typist gave up in
frustration—as I was looking for clothes, he was desperately trying
to track down an employee who could tell him where to find a light
cover. He finally gave up and cited his quite accurate analysis of
the issue: As more people shop online, there are fewer resources to
hire people in retail shops,
so fewer customers go to retail shops, because there is less and less
help available for
them to find
things like light domes. So
true.
Since
this has been kind of a gloomy
post, here is Chris Isaak’s rendition of Blue Hotel. Enjoy!
--Kristen McHenry
1 comment:
Awesome possum! :--)
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