Today is a day for examining what it is that makes you wonder what it is. This is what I've been thinking a lot about. It's hardly a day to pretend other than that.
Like, what if there's a moonfall event tomorrow?
Like, what if all the birds are more or less finished with flying?
Like, what's that word that's supposed to follow the word you've got stuck in your hand?
Like, how will we all cope now that the bees have gone and flown away to space?
Like, really are you satisfied with the way your beard smells?
Like, if dolphin telepathy is just a couple of years away from completion, what will Big Science do with its free time?
Like, are armies on the march because this battle is finished again and they are coming home or are they going somewhere new?
Like, Friday is just another way of avoiding Saturday for 24 more hours, right?
Like, arms get folded more often than we think but no one's really keeping score, are they?
Like, research research research. Is that all we'll ever read a book about?
But, honestly, let's be honest with ourselves. The pillow remains dry. The stairs keep going up and up. The neighbors have your dog hostage. Relax and live a little, am I right?
Yes, I am.
Forward and onward and upward. Blogging is impossible and for another day.
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I answered questions about some books I like. I typed "Holy Smokes" twice.
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I'll be reading in Portland on November 22 with Daniel Bailey and Bryan Coffelt. I think it's with this store, Ampersand, but it might actually occur at a nearby coffee house. When I know more, I will tell you more.
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Shane Jones's new book, The Failure Six, is very good. I have read about four of the failures. I am up to number five. You should buy The Failure Six. And you should read it in a room with a cat watching you read it.
Song for The Failure Six:
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Brother Blake has a story here. It's one of my favorites of his.
Someone told me about visiting a museum in Russia that had a room full of jarred still-born fetuses. Someone had sewed tiny lace ruffles around their wrists, and tiny lace collars on their necks.
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Frickin' Burch is frickin' awesome.
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