KICKING THE TIRES OF JANUARY 3, 2012

Mad, Bad and Dangerous to Know. . .

That was said about George Gordon, Lord Byron. He was beautiful, romantic, and had some good moments as a poet. Rumor said that to keep his figure svelt, he dined primarily on boiled potatoes doused with vinegar.

My friends do not think of me as “mad, bad, and dangerous.” I present a phlegmatic face to the world: often to the point of coma. They do not suspect a snarky iconoclast lurks behind the cellar door of my subconscious.

On a Facebook page belonging to a serious and well-meaning person, I posted a snarky and sarcastic comment aimed to puncture the balloon she was flying.

This adversarial personality knocks on the door daily; I rarely indulge its sardonic comments. But I would like to: I would like to sow a hundred sarcastic and mean-spirited comments every day.

Sadly, I am mad, bad, and dangerous to know in sheeps clothing.

KICKING THE TIRES OF JANUARY 2, 2020

New Millennium: Second Decade: Day Two

It’s 2020 and Good Mornings Still Start this Way

Heading into 2020

There is something I love about seeing “2020” and writing “2020.” My feelings about this year are: optimistic, enthusiastic, eager and excited. I look forward to living imaginatively and creatively.

The gap between my last post (way back in November) was filled by NaNoWrIMo which is the National Novel Writing Month. It was my third go-around with this venture. Third time is the charm: I succeeded in producing 50,000 words of a novel. I am pleased with myself and potentially pleased with the novel in spite of it requiring another 50,000 words to finish, massive revising and massive editing. In its current incarnation, it must remain hidden from view to all except myself. I have become a Frankenstein: the body parts are on the table, but requiring stitching and animating.

But For Another Day . . .

I was about to chat briefly about my adventures with imagination but I am saving this for tomorrow’s post.

Promise Post-Scriptus

I am promising myself to “Kick My Days” for a minimum of five days a week and a minimum of two sentences.