a mind of grog and apes

It’s been a long day. Just fired off the last of three articles for this week’s Statesman. One piece on Sunny Wicked’s show at the Spring Fling, a piece on Best Buy that may seem strangely familiar, and an op/ed piece that treads on some dangerously non-liberal turf.

Exhausted. I’ve been writing all day, and it hasn’t been particularly enjoyable writing. I’m getting pretty tired of holding myself to a higher standard than others. Just once I want to free free to do some schlock work and get away with it. I think this semester will offer many opportunities for that, but mostly on the reading front. As for writing, I haven’t figured out how to streamline that activity to take less time and effort. Sometimes it’s great fun wrangling together words, but other times it becomes a court of the upmost tedium.

It’s like flirting with a girl you are crazy about, and you are certain things would work out between the two of you, but catching her attention is so much work you wonder if it’s worth it. All you want is to take a long nap, after which you wake up and there’s an ape sitting on your couch. And your mind is so stuffed with Grog that you don’t know whether to court the ape or ask it to leave.

Not that I have much experience with girls or apes.

Grah. I can’t even see anymore. The words keep sliding off the monitor into my lap, and since they are such snarly little critters I needed to change into my rubber pants to avoid ruining my flannel pajamas.

Essay done. Time for bed. These rubber pants are hot.