I haven't gotten a forwarded message like this one in quite awhile:
"Good Morning!
"I am passing this on to you because it definitely worked for me and we
all could use more calm in our lives. By following the simple advice I
heard on a Dr. Phil show, I have finally found inner peace. Dr. Phil
proclaimed, "The way to achieve inner peace is to finish all the things
you've started." So I looked around my house to see all the things I
started and hadn't finished, and before leaving the house this morning,
I finished off a bottle of Merlot, a bottle of White Zinfandel, a bottle
of Bailey's, a bottle of Kahlua, a package of Oreos, the remainder of
both Prozac and Valium prescriptions, the rest of the cheesecake, and a
box of chocolates. You have no idea how freaking good I feel. Please
pass this on to those you feel are in need of inner peace."
Not bad, as thses things go, and as I said, they seem to have tapered off. People don't seem to forward me goofy jokes and dire warnings much these days, even though I have never been one to rant and indignate against it.
I also haven't gotten many comments posted here, either. Did you all stop reading?
It makes me wonder if I should bother climbing the ladder to the lookout every day (whimper)(peek around to see if anyone is looking sympathetic).
3 comments:
Now you know how it feels to be a writer. You hurl your best and brightest words out into the void, and strain your ears listening for the echo.
Bob Flynn (author of *North the Yesterday,* *Confessions of a Sullen Baptist,* and other genial books; also a fixture of what passes for a literary scene in San Antonio) has a story about how he was once woken up by a phone call in the middle of the night. At the other end, a strange voice demanded: "Is this Robert Flynn?"
"Yes."
"I just finished reading North to Yesterday and the ending stinks! Why'd you end it that way?"
So Bob sat up in bed and explained why it had to end "that way," and they discussed the book at length. Finally, the mollified reader said: "I'm really sorry I called so late."
"That's all right," said Bob. "I'm just glad to know somebody read it."
I am checking in and reading every day, but I'm mostly in lurk mode here and elsewhere, and I'm not really writing, either. The only thing I can work on seems to be my "Pleistocene Expansion Page," onto which I'm spilling the headful of opinions on American archaeology which I accumulated during the researching phase of *11,000 Years Lost.* Mostly I just agree with you, but feel it's pointless to log on just to tell you so and preach to the choir.
I should get the Pleistocene page up today, and maybe then I can get on to the next thing. But despite how well things are going for me personally, this is the Winter of my Discontent. I never do well in cold weather, and the knowledge that I live in post-democracy America is necessarily depressing.
Onward and upward. The best reason to climb your tower is because you like to be there. Everything else is gravy.
Peni
Clearly, Peni, you believe in answering evil with good, selfishness with kindness, and whining with encouragement.
Thank you.
Yeah, well, remember this when you hear me whine. I'm good at it. :) P
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