In Which the Protagonist Weathers Both the Snow Day That Ruined Final Exams and a Disgusting Head Cold

I am going to pause for a bit to pay some tribute, make some proclamations, and kill some time on a lovely snowy day! I am using lots of exclamation points because I took Sudafed earlier and I'm kindof all like woah! Look at that snow and my dog is so goddamn cute I can barely stand it and it feels funny to have plastic bags wrapped around your feet and ooooh, look, that's a pretty bird and yes Simon of COURSE I want a happy little drop of bourbon in my tea and why didn't I think of that sooner?!!

That's what it's like. We're both home sick today with no transportation and a couple of the biggest rutabagas I have ever seen. I think we also have plenty of condoms and a few logs to start a fire with later. What more could a girl need?

My poor students' exam schedules have been interrupted irrevocably by all this weather, and I know that they think they are happy about it, but it will not be fun for them to take these tests without a little bit more review. Plus, the car is in the shop and the mechanic appears to have gone on vacation. These are Carnita's troubles right now. Le sigh.

I have decided more about how this blog has got to work in order to work for me, especially regarding how to present time, structure, and internal logic. Even though I have decided to write a lot of smut on this blog, I am inspired very much by Hyperbole and a Half these days; the freedom Allie gives herself to slip and slide around in time as suits her mood on a given day keeps things much more interesting for both the writer and the reader than rigid chronology. The more I think about trying to start from the "beginning" of my story and arrive at the "end," the more I yawn, so that's not how I'm going to do it.

I'm not trying to write a cohesive novel here, alright? Just a little smut, laced with a lot of other stuff. But I understand that once it gets going, if anybody reads this blog, he or she is most likely to skip to the steamy parts first. Maybe only those parts. That is absolutely fine with me, but I have to be able to find a somewhat cohesive rhythm and voice for the rest of it for my own sense of purpose and vision or whatever the hell people say you need to create something of any interest to other people.


The problem is that I am a total mimic, and I go through these broad phases of fascination with certain styles and topics. Ever since I was very young. I have mimicked things for my own entertainment. I loved to imitate sounds made by different things around me, like dogs, cats, birds, people, machines, singers on the radio, television personalities, or my surly pony. Later I found that I had a knack for imitating images, too: drawing and painting things I saw, making stencils, or co-opting the styles of different artists.

Later, in college, the objects of my mimicry became writers and their styles. For instance, I was shameless about rocking an obvious William Faulkner/Gertrude Stein style of stream-of-consciousness prose poetry. If you've ever read either author, you may have noticed my hard-on for them. During senior thesis season, I nearly perfected my impersonation of a stodgy academic writer of Completely Inconsequential Literary Criticism. So the issue with trying to walk in too straight a time line with the plot that unfolds here is that it denies my own assets as a writer. That's my excuse!

So the point is that you must be patient with all the jumping around.

We're gonna watch a movie now. <3