I'm already being overly critical of this endeavor, and I haven't even started yet.
I've second guessed today's post several times. I've typed the start of six different posts and deleted them all. This is typical of a new project for me. It's like staring at a blank sheet of paper and wondering what to draw. I don't want to screw up this beautiful, untouched plane of possibility, but I know I'm going to have to. So I start with one line.
And then I get distracted by my phone or the stereo or the cat who is CURRENTLY PAWING AT MY LEG AND MEOWING PITEOUSLY EVEN THOUGH I JUST FUCKING FED HIM! *ahem*
Hiya! So here we both are. You sitting wherever it is you're sitting. Maybe you're standing. Perhaps you're leaning in a nook at your job when you should be working, stealing a few moments to look at this. Get to work, slacker. You're literally being paid right now to read my words, and none of that money is coming my way. Find me when you're on your break.
But you're here. And I'm here. And time is funny because I'm writing this when you couldn't possibly be reading this, but I'm pretending you and I are here right now. Together. Like we're sitting at a table separated by a cup of coffee and an ugly centerpiece advertising this place's new mocha bullshit they clearly ripped right off from Starbucks, and I'm just talking and talking like a terrible date where you don't get to say anything til the end.
But really I don't say anything at all of substance because I'm vamping for the next big idea to take the stage. And isn't that what a lot of writing is? Haven't got my gun loaded yet, so I'm going to ask you what your diabolical plan is to distract you from what I'm doing. And then...when you triumphantly cackle--BANG! And I'm the hero.
Or at least the guy who shot first.
So here's how it's gonna be. I'm gonna hit you with some talk about my board game collection. I'll talk to you about Tarot cards and what my experience with them has been. I'll probably tell you about my cat. About my pretend farm. About what I'm excited for in the future. About my plans for the year. About uniform changes and strange customers. About dinner. And maybe we'll come together on some truth. Maybe across this table of mixed metaphors we'll actually find something in common and you'll come back for a second date.
Thirty dates is a lot of dates. Maybe we should just bang and get it over with.
the first attack wave
52 minutes ago