Thursday: Need to write … ?

It takes forever to get anything done. The previous post needs fixing — the parser automatically converts double-line-spaces into paragraph breaks.  “Heart” was written into the 16th, but it was published late on the 19th.
I get what I deserve for…reading others’ blogs?  Well, doing it all morning, ruining the schedule.  Runed, I tell ya’, runed.  These posts include E.A.’s “Yucky stuff,” and B.F.’s “Pass the salt,” where Shelly eats olives, beef bouillon, old taco meat with spaghetti sauce and extra salt, and sardines, only to ask for the pickles.
This time I’m going to be frank.  That is until I edit out the offensive language, and then it’s no longer frank, but screw the horoscope, the “hold back on your words.”  When you’re invisible, it doesn’t matter much anyway.  And ordering screw.

Below expectations

Excuse me for not being able to speak and organize like a normal person.  I’m not normal.  I know you probably hate my guts; I know I often hate mine.  I can tell, if people decide to up and drop — the site doesn’t send an email for an ‘unfollow.’ —Well, I can’t really tell on that without access, but images disappear in the list.
And then some photog bloggers join in because of one post with ‘photography’ in its tag list.  One of the gravatars looks like Ryan Gosling.  There’s nothing wrong with photographers following, other than the fact that I can’t afford a camera.  And that gives me the opportunity for the next paragraph.
Having no working scanner for an illustration, so I had to do another self-portrait with a paint program and a mirror (on the 4th), just to leave it unfinished and somewhat grotesque in appearance.  As if I’m ever photogenic.

Appreciate more in life

Even fewer WordPress ‘Likes’ lately, but…automatic emoticon images!  Yea! 🙂
Appreciatin’ the about-zero love from everyone, not just online.  Can’t see any right now.  Or since turning a certain age.  Finding love ain’t something I can do, given no looks, no car, no job, no etc.  Alone, unable to change being alone.

Being able to do that fifteen-tile Puzzle thing in thirty seconds doesn’t pay the bills.  Access and success are both either insignificant or misleading for me.  No time to click the Like button for everything I read.  Really.
Sad, but true exaggerated. . . . . . . 🙂 🙂 🙂 Yea! 🙂 🙂 🙂

The man who played God

I came to watch the DVD for The Magic of Belle Isle after a walk in the park yesterday, at a time you can’t even make out people’s faces, and the lights are already on, but only in the central area — dark.  And this DVD would have extras that put too much of the focus on director Rob Reiner, only for another, Interview with Rob Reiner.
This movie, which was filmed on a lovely lake front, where a writer named Monty that has given up on life (Morgan Freeman) mentors a nine-year-old… reminds me of my stunted existence again.  Sure, I got tutors in shhhool, but no mentors.  Nothing like Morgan Freeman.  Just tutors who are either hyperactive or have a whistling nose you can’t stand.
Monty would scream, and the little girl would ask, What’s he yelling at?  Keenan Thompson, as the nephew, then responds, Life.  Days later, Monty’s invited to dinner next door.  Thanks for the chicken dinner, Morgan, mother of three girls next door.  And to the dog, Your behavior was exemplary; and for that I’m going to lift the ban on farting.

Heads up (not really; joking)

Belle spoiler: the curmudgeon next door that wins the hearts of an all-female family puts a shotgun in his mouth, and “then-I, Pullled.. -the trig-ah. I Just- like  t’ See them kiddies cry.  It was a brilliant plan; I would steal their hearts, then break them.”
Can’t wait for the tired old man to go from Bucket List to What’s my name, itch, where he plays a man that sits around just as much as his wheelchair-bound character, but without paralysis.  Kind of like my fat ass, sitting here, typing this, not having anything better to do.
How many bucket list items can I do in one Georgia weekend?  Ummm….nothing?

Good luck, brain: a never-ending garbage isle

With quality like this in a post, I can understand why [someone whose name begins with a ‘C’] wouldn’t want to be distracted with it.  It’s ruinous.  His book, “The Writer” will be out on Sunday, the 23rd— whoops, gave the name away.
Why would anyone appreciate what I do if I wouldn’t read a lot of what I’ve written.  Sure, I have to proof-read it, but plenty of other things I’ve done are far better.  Well, okay— my coverage of certain things has been okay.  In 2009, I covered the green wristbands in Iran.  I’m the one that’s not very creative.
I did write a chapter for a sci-fi story about a vet that comes home before weird, if not devastating things start happening.  “And you die one chapter at a time,” said fictional character Jonathan Fisher.  But hey, that was weeks ago, and not one demand from anyone, on anything, except getting a towel.

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