First things first, it is the birthday month of Her Grace, Duchess Goldblatt and as Elizabeth McCracken said in her morning Tweet: “Comport yourselves appropriately.” Speaking of which (whom?) another person of paramount import, whose very presence in the ether makes the ether worth ethering, Elizabeth McCracken her own self is celebrating a birthday month too! As the cool kids say (I’ve been eavesdropping on them at their table, way across the imaginary/virtual world-library in which I live) “I know, right?” I mean, if one is – like so many are – a subject of Her Grace and a McCracken-head, this month is ALMOST too much to bear.
However, I am bearing – and bearing up – because Her Grace said to me, just last night:
I really need you to see the good in yourself that your aunt saw and I see.
Claim your space. Fuck it, Charlie. You deserve to take up space. Don’t make me come to life. You know I have a headache.
So, yes. There. Fuck it, Charlie, INDEED! The very LAST thing I want is for anyone to have to come to life. I know I avoid it with much the same vigor I avoided the unattractive fellow who was lurking in the sauna and showers at the gym yesterday, cock-blocking those of us who had different sorts of work-outs in mind after earlier exertions.
Speaking of unattractive fellows, get this:
Ignorance speaks for itself. Unfortunately often and at intense volume. One would think he’d be hoarse by now with all the ridiculous ranting. Then again, I’ve been raging and ranting since puberty hit and I seem only to get louder. So, there it is. Here we are, going.
As in, no, really, I HAVE to go. Tomorrow is release date for David Mitchell’s The Bone Clocks (read James Woods’ review in The New Yorker, HERE) and there are 20 plus books I promised myself I would finish reading (or, in some cases, re-reading) BEFORE The Bone Clocks (not going to happen) but I’m hitting the stacks today with renewed determination.
Right after I go to the gym and
see if I can find that young really hot Latin guy who wanted to fool around but we were blocked by stalker-guy do my daily two hours on the cardio equipment in training for my too-quickly approaching Ride to Conquer Cancer. Actually, I haven’t raised the requisite $2500, so they probably aren’t going to let me ride anyway –
– but you know what? The money I raised is raised, so HOORAY, and, being told I’m NOT allowed to ride 75 miles a day for two days – worse things have happened. And, way better things – FOR EXAMPLE – Today, this morning, when I weighed myself, I weighed less than I have in two and a half years – and this is another good thing. And, it seems, attractive to Latin boys in locker rooms.
Win. Win. Thanks, Duchess!