Did I mention that I'm still writing two minute plays for high schoolers on Fridays,
Football fans on Saturday,
And match dot coms on Sunday?
Still going strong for close to six years.
In the same apartment for two.
Finally planning that wedding that's been in the back of my mind since we were seventeen in sweat pants, in a cafeteria in Evanston.
Never thought I'd be one of those people who gave two wooden nickel licks about catering contracts and strappy shoes.
But, then you decide you want to mark this time in your life with this community of folk,
And one thing leads to another,
And although you never had a perfect day on the agenda,
Still you want to take care of your guests,
And guests need plates to eat off of,
So there you go,
Oh, my god,
Like,
Fishnets and Jambalaya,
Oh, my God,
Totally awesome,
Like,
I'm dying,
You're dying,
We are all totally dying.
If this were like a competition on Bravo, I would so win, I'm here to win.
Just kidding.
You know and I know that the best day of my life was that day in the cafeteria,
Plus all the ones that haven't happened yet.
And, this is nice, but, its also a flagstone, and you can't have a flagstone without a yard.
So, yes, I'm excited to be getting married, but I'm more excited to be already married.
And then I taught my brains out of an eight week workshop.
Seriously, I didn't know how much brain power teaching took up.
I'm used to working with my hands.
Confirmation: students are more rewarding than pancakes.
But, also more pressure.
It's one thing to ruin a breakfast.
Another thing to ruin the soft skull of a young writer.
That said, it's not my appetite, and it's not my eight weeks. This is about you. So do the work.
I'm a working artist who teaches. I'm one part facilitator of feedback. Two parts challenging assignment for next week. Three quarter liaison between you and the professional world. So lets arrange the chairs in a circle. This is fun. We're all in this together.
But, then of course I have to mention yet another adventure in brunch. Just a mention. A stop on the Brown line for brisket. You know how you catch a glimpse of your naked body in the prongs of the fork that someone left on your bedroom floor.
Shrug.
Is what it is.
With this current arrangement I can work less and make more. So, make it a cup cake pancake I guess. For now. I can focus on getting hitched, re applying to those feathered institutions in the sky, submitting the usual best three a month. And in general evaluating the placement of the next step.
Because I can't perform broken words to Velcro shoes for the rest of my life. Life above a funeral home gets heavy.
Not that I don't love my creative projects. I could make movies with deep eyes, stalk Grover's corners, and stream my conscience with T-Rex until I'm forty one and expecting my first batch of lesbian Cambodian triplets.
I never thought I'd be one of those people who wanted a mahogany coffee table.
Funny how the perspective shifts.
Funny how its easy to get tired of the same wad of twisted cotton sheets.
Transitional times.
Mulled wine and wheat cereal,
Tattoos and blistered gums
(I can't see what's on their napkin)
