Thursday, January 05, 2006

Someone Light A Bush

I spent this morning googling the shit out of a list contributors to a book about knee surgery. It's apparently very important that they all get a letter informing them that their work, work we already own as per the contract that every sorry motherfucker who writes even a word for one of our books must sign, will be reprinted. As dictated by the instructions handed down from the next rung of the editorial food chain, we must give them the opportunity to take their name off of their chapters. You know, just in case their five hundred words on the patella once caused them great shame and disgraced their family.

"DO NOT PUBLISH THAT RUBBISH WITH MY NAME," the urgent, telegram responses will say as they pour in. "MY CHILDREN MUST BE ABLE TO HOLD THEIR HEADS HIGH STOP KNEES BELONG UNDER THE TABLE STOP WILL TAKE LEGAL ACTION IF MY NAME IS NOT REMOVED STOP SERIOUSLY STOP."

I took a page from the Brad Walsh Book of Luck this morning and bought a Jones Soda. Each bottle has a fortune under the cap and his recently proved spot-on. I got "start a journal." I mean, awesome. Actually, it's a kind of eerie in that I do have a delayed Christmas present on its way that is a blank book. But, O Swami of Jones, O Oracle of Root Beer, I started a new journal last week. First time since college. Way to be on the ball.

I gave it another shot after lunch. "You shall attain great wisdom with passing years." Thanks. Thank you very, very much for telling me what, bar Alzheimer's, is the natural progression of the human psyche. I'll embroider that one on a pillow. If I can remember where I live.

I'm rarely jealous of those living in biblical times, but I would accept lice, plagues, half my life expectancy, and social status as a baby-squirter and manna-maker if I got to have one of those voice-from-the-heavens interventions. An old school pssst, Kathy, I'm just saying...do this, because this is going to happen. I mean, no pressure, but I'm, like...GOD. I wish we had a contract with God, or fate, or whatever that guaranteed burning some incense or hacking up a chicken on the proper days meant we would know where our lives were headed.

Because, frankly, I've decided my life needs to take a sharp left turn off of the Philosophically Blogging While At Work highway. I don't want to spend eight hours a day inviting people to take their names off their work. Especially when I want to have something great to put my name on.

(That doesn't have to do with knee replacement.)

1 Comments:

Blogger SCHRmm said...

I spend my days pushing diamond rings to rich people...modern life seems a bit of a tragedy when your head is so bursting with thought and the need for meaning that you have to write a goddamn blog just to keep yourself from quitting your job to become a crack whore (at least in their warped reality there is purpose). I hope someone spots your obvious talent, you are a good writer.

3:43 PM  

Post a Comment

<< Home

Site Meter Blogarama - The Blog Directory