Mamarati

So, I read this article in the New York Times about these two couples who had sex every day for periods of time (one for a year and one for 101 days). They both wrote about the experience (365 Nights and Just Do It) and I’m jumping on that bandwagon much to my boyfriend’s joy. (He just tonight renamed it “Sex Every Day for the Rest of Our Lives”).

We’ll see.

So far my biggest worries are those days when I’m feeling not so fresh and being on my period, which yeah yeah yeah for those of you who have no issue with this at all. I’m sorry. I just … would rather not. I’m not scared of my junk and I’m not a prude and I’m not being kept down by the man or whatever… I just am not a fan.

Anyway, tonight is night three and so far, so good.

I mean… so far, sooooooooo good.

So, I wish that over the years I’d been a smart mom and had written down all the funny things my kid has said. I thought I’d remember them all. Right. I can’t even remember what I had for breakfast.

Anyway — here’s a few:

Music Class — In his music class the teacher wanted them to all hold hands and sing a song. Now, why on earth a teacher would want these 6th graders to hold hands is completely beyond me. I personally think that kids can hold hands during songs until about 4th grade and then they can start it again about senior year. In the years between, no forced hand-holding should really be happening. It’s just awkward, embarrassing moments waiting to happen, no? Read the rest of this entry »

So, I’m at the library. And I’m thinking there must be something by David Foster Wallace that I haven’t read. Or maybe he’s come out with something new. That was the mood I was in. For that particular type of writing. The kind that confirms that I am crazy and yet not at all insane.

And there’s nothing.

And so I think, what is that writer that They are always comparing him to? Maybe it’s high time I check into that guy.

And it’s Thomas Pynchon. And so I look for books by him. I settle on Gravity’s Rainbow.

Then I get home, and I’m like, isn’t there another book I bought and was meaning to read but I never got around to it… ? Like, something not quite so thick that might quickly satiate my desire for wordy bathtub stuffs?

I’m looking all through my books, and lo and behold, I find it. It’s called The Crying of Lot 49.

And it’s by the same damn guy. Thomas Pynchon.

Weird. Really weird.

So I read it. And I’m kind of pissed. I didn’t like the way it ended not one bit. I think I actually threw the book across my boyfriend’s poor, defenseless body when I finished.

But I won’t spoil the ending.

Just know… you will probably not be happy about it.

Now I’m going to read Gravity’s Rainbow because I am a glutton for punishment.

There was a point to this entry and I lost it because of my Twilight Zone moment there.

Oh yeah. So, the book made me think. Funny, though, because it didn’t make me think of things in the book. I wasn’t like, what will happen? What does that mean? How can that be?

I was just thinking more. More deeply. About stuff that is more… random and kind of nuts.

I was thinking about all the crazy imagery I have in my head instead of just trying to ignore it.

And it made me want to write.

I guess I was getting more introspective and I haven’t had much time for that lately. And I’m with an “other” all the time, and I guess that makes me think or worry about myself less. Or it makes me care less about it because I’m happy and I’m not trying to fix myself all the time.

But it was refreshing to be thinking like that. It made me feel kind of excited.

I guess that’s why I’ve been on a writing kick today. More like back in the day when I was reading all the time… and also posting and writing all the time. Sometimes several times a day, posts that were so long I had to split them up because of the old constraints on entry size back at the OD.

Hmmmm.