Is Boobs a good Title?

Greetings all. Well, I’ve slathered myself in OFF familycare insect repellent, popped a Zipline brew and stationed myself on the back deck because I’ve a yearn’n to write. …and I’ve been listening to an Irish dialect smut book on my commute to work and might throw a bit of the unauthentic dialect into my writing today.

I just feel the need to stretch the fingers…I literally hauled out my little laptop out of hiding. There was a hefty layer of dust on it.

There are moments when I feel more myself than ever.

If I could go out, I’d totally be on my game night tonight. X played hard at our friend’s house all day while Steve and I were at work and X was in bed by 6:30, zonked. Steve is at work now. So, ya…I’ve got this rare moment of this feeling of freedom and creativity and a six pack to fuel the impulse.

I’ve not much to actually say…

It is really loud out here on my back deck. Train blowing, kids popping off fireworks…and it seems there is a small skateboard posse who’s discovered the stairs between the breezeway off the old folks’ apartments across the creek from our back yard. I can’t see them because of the leafy trees…but the landing of a board off stairs is unmistakable.

I’ve decided to blast my music. However the speaker is one of those blue tooth ones that can fit in the palm of your hand. I lust after a speaker system that can envelope your senses and make your bones hum. But, I’ll settle for the speaker that is the size of a piss cup. I’m sure the skateboarders are impressed by the wafting of lighthearted beats their way.

I’m going to share a secret about myself with you all. I’ve totally, completely, walled myself off from my normal writing space. Which is my half of our office. If you were to see my desk, no living soul could reach it. I’ve filled the floor, chair, desk…everything surrounding it so I can’t sit down and write where I like to. God I hate self sabotage, and I am a freaking queen at it. I’ve only just recognized what I’ve been doing. It’s all because of the Andy story I’ve been so shitty at trying to write. Those closest to me know what this is all about. I need help. If I can finish this story, if I can get to the bottom of it…I can finally, finally be free.

I don’t feel like I can be a creative writer until I get the Andy story done. It looms over me. It’s so inane and stupid how a bird…that my grandpa put shoes on, can consume my creative freedom. Is it too much to ask I’d like the help of David Sedaris or that I think it is the perfect fodder for a Wes Anderson film? Anyone know them that could give me an in? Fuck it, I’m almost 40, it’s time right? It is so stupid how this possesses my mind…

On to another topic, music… so, I’ve discovered the soundtrack of my current life. It is by a dude who goes by Podington Bear, and the album is aptly called Background. He makes music to be licensed for background music…and I so dig it. I licensed like twelve of his tunes so I can use them at work. If you are not familiar with the site or app Spotify…discover it and listen to the album…or any album for that matter.

Did I mention I’m totally starved for social interaction? If I could slip out for an hour to a social place and have a beer, throw f-bombs freely around, laugh and make an ass out of myself…it would be like a little hour holiday. Basically, we need a babysitter. And Steve could come out too and watch how impressive I can be at knocking them back and how I can build an impressive slutty.

I suppose I’m a little all over the place with this post. My readership may go down… Which I think is only my mother-in-law and my Auntie in Portland…. Love you.

I’ve opened another ZipLine…yummy… I’m totally going to post this…on a Saturday night…no one is going to read this. But, I’ve stretched the fingers…it feels good. Maybe I’ll clean the office….