You know, critical to the success of any Lifetime movie is the availability of poorly guarded pharmaceuticals and easily procured firearms.
I hear him sigh audibly on the line.
You aren't actually watching a Lifetime movie, are you?
No. Not affirmatively, anyway.
I hit the mute button and return to the task at hand.
So, what are you doing, if not watching damsals in distress?
I'm cleaning the floor. At least I think I'm cleaning the floor.
He is quiet for a minute.
Why so unsure?
Well. I think carefully before going on. It sort of has a skin now.
Did you spill something?
Yeah. Flour. A fair amount, in fact.
I hear laughter on the other end of the line.
So you decided to clean up the flour spill with, let me guess, a wet mop?
Yeah.
And you sort of made a pizza crust and then spread it around the whole floor.
Apparently.
He laughs while I continue to regard the floor.
What should I do?
Oh, that's easy. Come out to lunch and have a martini. All problems benefit from time away and very chilled vodka.
I pause, considering the options.
Ok. Fine. Pick me up in ten.
*************************
Here's a little advice.
If you happen to be swimming around the interwebs and find yourself staring at a name that seems slightly familiar, but you just can't place it, don't click through to find out because you will soon find yourself in a sea of far more familiar names that you'd really rather forget were ever familiar at all.
And if you are still foolish enough to click on any of those names, don't go reading their words or looking at their pictures. You just might find some casual cruelty there. It will surprise you at first, then serve as a reminder that not only is the past dead, apparently it was never at all what you thought it was.
So. Moral of the story: Question Gravity.
**
Yes, it took witnessing someone's casual and public cruelty to finally close that chapter. I may have more to say about that sometime, or I may not. I no longer feel bound to promises made when another has betrayed those very promises over and over again. So now, well, the rules of disengagement have changed.
I'm back.
Call this the obligatory first entry.
As in past incarnations, back archives will not be restored. In fact, the few archived entries still here are likely going to come down. Maybe there will be a redesign. There are several projects already begun that will be appearing here. I am not sure how to let you know when new stuff will appear. Something tells me that notify lists are old-fashioned. I suppose I will figure all that out soon enough.
This is still a journal in the old skool sense.
I won't link to it from my other online writings, and stories are still told with an elastic sense of time and place. People will have pseudonyms because they did not choose to have their encounters with me shared in print. That said, if you do recognize yourself here, in spite of my best attempts at disguise, know that nothing I write here is something I would be ashamed to have you read.
If you know me in my every day three-dimensional life, I'd like to know you're reading. That said, I am not about to block anyone from this space. I appreciate the old wild west internet, when no one expected to be able to control anyone else's words.
Obviously, if you are from the old life and have not been in touch with me over the past four years, there is nothing here for you. Move along.
I think that is it for now.
(Wow, this was kind of a boring obligatory first entry. Next time, I should include something about long walks on the beach.)