Despair Bowels

Did I watch all three presidential debates IN THEIR ENTIRETY?

I did.

Did I reward myself for this beefy feat by making a shirt?

I did.

Untitled

(Enthusiasm for Such A Nasty Woman will soon die down and the phrase will inevitably be filed somewhere between Eat My Shorts and Where’s The Beef. Until that happens? I’ll be over here voting.)

NaBloPoMo will be kicking off one week from today and I’m already releasing myself from it if it does not serve me and I’m forgiving myself for failing. Yoga and Jesus, my friends. Yoga and Jesus. (That might be my next shirt.)

I’m still pinballing within the bowels of despair about not being able to see mountains in my distance. (My worst grade in high school was my drama grade.) We’ve been back from Colorado much longer than we were IN Colorado, and I like to believe that a part of me broke off there and is currently eating a caprese sandwich and looking forward to a late night breezy cardigan and clog walk. (We should sit around sometime and talk about our parallel lives and where our other selves are hanging out. I have so much to say about this. It fills my daydreams every single day which means I am definitely not living in the present and I apparently need even more Yoga and Jesus.) ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

10 thoughts on “Despair Bowels”

  1. Dude. I’ve spent the past three months completely pissed off that I’m not in Ireland. (My other self is living in a tiny cottage on King’s Island somewhere not far from St. Mary’s and the Potato Market, drinking gallons of rooibos tea and eating kilos of flourless cake and spending every weekend tromping around The Burren with a flask of hot Jameson and an Irish Wolfhound.)

  2. My other self is definitely 100% on a couch, reading a romance novel. Then a cheerful memoir, then a heart wrenching true crime.

  3. The things you choose to write about make me think you are my favorite person I don’t actually know. Can’t wait for NaBloPoMo!

  4. My other self is sitting on a secluded beach in Tahiti, waiting for me to FINALLY get myself there. Wait patiently, my friend/self! It will be a l-o-n-g time…

  5. Given that I’m commenting without having read your latest entry, forgive the following if your latest entry reported that you lost you hands in a freak loom accident while weaving, and NaBloPoMo is just a painful memory.

    If it’s any inventive to get you to write everyday, I’ll tell you some stories, serial-style, in your comments section to keep you motivated. It’s almost the least I can do.

Comments are closed.