Day nine of my mini-blogging marathon, all month long, baby.
Monday morning… I actually love Mondays. It’s my day off.
My weekend, in this order:
Saturday. Tried to learn The Smiths’ “Asleep” on my guitar (that song keeps coming up and I’ve stopped wondering why), wrote, taught yoga, tried to take a nap, decided to sell my Jetta which isn’t even running, went to the bar and worked a double, apologized to a guy named John for giving him shit a couple of weeks ago for not being able to pay his $65 tab, wrote in the middle of the night, ate ice cream in bed, fell asleep with my computer on my lap.
Sunday: slept, sent in “Everybody Dies,” didn’t brush my hair, taught my class, made my husband pause the World Cup game in the 2nd overtime at 0-0 until I could get home, got dropped me off at the bar and picked up in my husband’s Porsche 912, got home in time to torture the dog and my husband with more guitar (hey, he gave it to me—he knew what he was getting into), fell asleep at midnight with the TV blaring.
Somewhere in there, I decided on my next piece for Elephant: “Ride That Vinyasa Like a Hot Bitch.” Yup. Big thanks to everyone who has read, shared and said cool things about my writing. It can be scary to put some out there, especially when it’s about your parents dying. You made it worth it.
Somehow this morning we started talking about Billy Joel, which reminds me for some reason of Ian Dury, which further reminds me for some reason of yesterday when we were listening to Rickie Lee Jones, who I love and who I think is New York-y but the husband says no, she’s L.A.-ish. Have a listen, and if you’re like me, you’ll have tears in your eyes. She’s just so soulful.
Hope you’re having a great Monday :-)