Ah, Monday. It’s just like Friday or Saturday—if you strapped on a backpack full of rocks and put an anvil on your head.
But enough about me. Let’s talk about you.
Wait: let’s talk about you and me. Have you gotten your entrance into the Photoshop Gesturing John contest? Don’t forget the deadline is … well, it was noon today, but let’s make it at midnight tonight. That’s better. So. Midnight tonight it is. Voting begins tomorrow (assuming I can get the pictures up and sized right by then).
I was just thinking this morning what I might award the winner of the contest in addition to the indescribable inscribed, autographed copies of both my books. I was thinking maybe I’d find out what the winner’s interests are, and then choose a book out of my personal library that fits that interest. I also have a lot of music I love, so perhaps a CD. Or I could call the person, and sing to them a while. Because I don’t think anything says “I just won a contest!” like suddenly having reason to wish you were deaf. But we’ll see.
Hey, do you know that one time Skye Edwards, the lead singer of Morcheeba, sang me a song over the phone? I was in my office in San Diego, and she was in a crowded town bar somewhere in the UK, at around two in the morning her time. I can definitely say that she gave me a singularly stirring performance. I have no idea what compelled her to do it (besides whatever she’d been drinking). We’d been chatting right along for a while (I was then the editor of a local music magazine)—and then she said, “Wait just a moment, ‘k?” Next I heard all this sort of clunking of the phone—and then her voice again, saying, “I’ve climbed into a phone booth now; the phone in here is so high I’ve had to stand on a chair!” She asked me if I was interested in hearing a song that she’d lately been taken by. “Yes, yes, of course,” I said, not being a complete moron. And the next thing I know, she was softly regaling me in that mesmerizingly soft and smoky voice of hers.
Let’s see … what else? Oh: I am right now ridiculously busy. For a book I’m ghostwriting, I need to write 4,000 publishable words every day for about the next ten days. That’s … insane, basically. So for my blog here, instead of writing new stuff, I might go back and pull forth some stuff I posted back when pretty much nobody was reading me here. I’ve got some material I completely like about animals that disappeared into obscurity; this might be just the excuse I’ve been looking for to repost that stuff. (The thing about reposting old stuff, though, really, is that I spend so much time revising and rewriting it that I might as well just write new stuff. But … we’ll see. Anyway, sorry if in the next week or so you end up seeing here stuff you’ve already read. If that happens, then … wow! Way to still be reading me after all this time!)
I cannot believe how middle-aged I am. But … that’s really a whole other post. If not a reason to completely reevaluate my entire life, and … maybe start taking vitamins, or something.
Worst Halloween ever last night. We had but four groups of kids come knocking—and three of them were basically roving gangs of teenagers who apparently have no life whatsoever. I was, like, “Dudes. Really? You’re doing this?” And they were, like, “Shut-up, old man. Feed us.” But, whatever. I’m just glad I licked all my candy before rewrapping it and handing it out. See how smart-alecky those guys are when they all come down with tonsillitis in about … well, today.
I had my tonsils out when I was a little kid. I was, like, “What? I’ve barely started in life, and already you want to lop parts right out of my head? What the heck’s going on here? What next? Are my toes safe?” But did anyone listen? No. They were too busy yanking out parts of my neck.
Gotta go now. Driving wife to work. I can hear she’s almost ready to go. I’m so not.
Later! Love! Have a great Monday! Or at least try not to kill anyone with a stapler!