One time, a friend of mine told me he liked my blog because it was a throwback to those days when people just “wrote about anything they felt like” on their sites. I guess now it’s all too polished (aka written for an audience of people other than said blogger’s father, husband, and lone friend who likes ad lib) and curated and sponsored. Well, no one sponsors me, so I guess I can just say what I like! Which is helpful on this particular Monday, because I haven’t been unproductive exactly, but I just can’t seem to concentrate on anything for more than twenty seconds at a time. Below are the subjects I find myself flitting between:
- I’m way late to this game, but damn, Petite Meller is one weird child-woman. It makes me uncomfortable to watch her pale ass writhing around in a pastel onesie, and yet I have had this video on in the background basically all morning. I think these Kenyan schoolgirls might be my newest fashion obsession. I’ve considered Googling “African private school straw hats” a few times in the past hour, but I’m worried Google would just shoot back, “You’re a fucking racist.” And it would be justified in doing so.
Also, when I finally get around to creating my hat label, Whimsical Haberdashery, Petite Meller will definitely model my first season. Last note on her: she’s apparently obsessed with Freud, and The Guardian just ran a long piece on the return psychoanalysis, which I recommend although I’m too lazy to link to it. Bottom line: Way to go, Freud! You may be dead but you’re still killing it! - I keep meaning to tell someone this because I think it’s hysterical, but the other night I had a dream that the only “serious” critic (whatever that means) to give my book a mediocre review and I drove on ATVs to the Grand Canyon for a little day trip. It was really fun, actually. I think we should consider doing it in real life.
- I’m pursuing a number of very different stories at the moment, and ergo am trying to find a bunch of new sources and have no idea how to go about getting them, aside from this: if you happen to have a son at the Westminster Abbey Choir School, or are a Hare Krishna convert who wears a traditional robe most of the time, or you’re currently in drug rehab and considering becoming a Christian, or maybe you wear the same thing to work every day a la Matilda Kahl, shoot me a note.
- I’m lying to you and to myself here––I haven’t been thinking about any of the above. I’ve just been looking at pictures of Petite Meller. WHY. I get the whole shtick, right now, immediately. I don’t need to hear her breathy whispers about her philosophy degree or her one-woman campaign to help us all bring our libidinal subconsciouses (subconsciousnesses?) to light––I see where this is all headed, which makes me hate it. So why am I lusting after her fake-rosacea? Lord, grant me the strength to resist her (but not yet.)
Oh and PS, she totally stole this hat idea from me. Ask my husband. He knows.
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