I keep writing failed blogs posts lately, and my latest one was a convoluted if heart-felt narrative about despair being seductive and misanthropy being pleasurable, and how the only way we can ever truly heal either is through service to humanity, and what service really means, and how one of the side characters in my novel is a jerk, and that song by Jewel about how she owns her hands. And also, Bill Hicks. But I have mercifully deleted it. You’re welcome.
In more successful writing news, I finally finished editing my latest short story and actually worked up the nerve to submit it to a literary magazine. I am probably overconfident, since a story I wrote about a post-apocalyptic monkey therapy program was flukishly accepted a few months ago. So I wrote another one about a dystopian hospital overtaken by raccoons. It probably sucks, and I should just stick to writing poetry, but I have always loved reading short stories, and have powerful impulse to write them these days. We’ll see what happens.
Some time back, I put out a blog plea for links to Chicks Who Pod. Since I switched to a new phone, all of my podcast subscriptions had to be reset, and I decided it was time for a change—meaning less Angry White Man podcasts (Sorry, Marc Maron—I love you, but I need some space), and more lady-based podcasts, be they angry or Zen-like. And voila! I came across Aisha Tyler’s Girl on Guy! And she is amazing! She games, she cooks, she writes, she does stand-up, and she’s warm and hilarious and driven and very Type-A. And we even have a lot of the same insecurities! Even though I am decidedly not Type-A myself, I totally love this chick, and all I ask is that she be my best friend and come over and help me defeat the final boss in The Secret World’s Blue Ridge Mine mission and eat nachos and drink craft beer with me
But, upon hearing about my new-found love for Aisha, Mr. Typist warned me, “Watch what you wish for, because I am in totally in love with her and have always been in love with her and will flat out have an affair with her if she is in proximity”, to which I pointed out that Aisha would actually have some choice in that matter. But Mr. Typist just scoffed, ran his hands down the length of his body and said, “Not once she gets a load of this, baby.” To which I had no choice but to agree. So I guess I will just have love her unrequited, from afar. Sorry, Aisha. I have a marriage to protect. (But call me!)
P.S. . Even you don't want to listen to Aisha's podcast as a regular thing, I personally think her stunning interview Felicia Day should be required listening for anyone struggling to achieve a measure of success the arts.