Fit to Print?

fiction
fictionalize
fictitious
fictive

I suppose I asked for it by starting a blog that sometimes seems to be a daily journal, sometimes a dream analysis, sometimes a playground with words and phrases and sometimes a place to jack off, lyrically, that is. Uncensored ( sorry, Mom) and until now unapologetic, I have used it as a scratch pad for ideas that come and go, that I would like to capture and pose as a question to none other but myself. I am stunned and grateful for the attention it sometimes garners. The spammers are funny, too. I'm guessing there is an engine that will produce the profundities seen in some of the comments, like: "Love your blog, reminds me of my brother's at dumbass.blogspot.wasteof time" and sometimes I actually go and check them out. Haven't bought anything yet, however.

Greek mythology, armchair sociology, road trip extrapolating, the Prophet (who is a friend of mine) throwing goods my way, Jungian dream analysis, lunch time stomach grumblings, a childhood spent wandering further and further from home and too many books that I never finished reading. Ta da! All is all. If you don't recognize the voice it's because someone else is speaking. It's a good thing they don't actually take up physical space because my apartment is just too damn small, but C.G. comes and goes, Cerberus guards the door, the Lotus Eaters just drink all the milk ('cos I hate the stuff), Ikkyu does funny dances when he thinks I'm not looking, the Fabulous Bee is usually absent, the Driver is out and about picking up supplies and the Killer (that rotten kid) just sulks in the corner. Patience and Faith sit out the dinner parties because the noise disturbs them as much as it does my neighbors, and my Dead play CDs until I fall asleep. I like having roommates but I can't always stop them from messing up the kitchen.

I'm currently painting a barn for a friend and have been stung once, nearly fell off the ladder, got woozy with the heat and forgot to bring any CDs. I really do enjoy it though, because with the hands busy, the mind wanders. Dan is here next week and the Fabulous Bee will descend, twitching with the anticipation of corruption, the Prophet speaks again and You will settle into the new job. Claire's birthday has come and not quite gone, so get her a present, you slackers. The band is arguing about a hiatus and if you know a good trumpet player send him to me. That's about it for now. And Susan, don't worry so much, I'm fine. Lunch?

I gotta go. The dog's eating the Lotus again and I can hear that damn kid breaking stuff in the bedroom. Then I paint.