Writer write, you know...

I don't do guilt.

I've said it forever. I've written about it. I've talked about it. I'm not a wallower. I'm not a guilt ridden individual. Guilt is an actionable emotion. If you are feeling guilty that means you need to change. Either what you are doing or what you believe.

So...yeah...

I'm writing today.

I've talked about this before too. I feel the need to write. The drive to write. When I don't write my head gets a little fuzzy. Too full. I have to dump it all out and start over. If I don't write fiction my dreams get REALLY weird, and I'm just starting to see the edges of that creep in.

So....yeah...

I'm writing today.

And if I don't write I can't really tell people "I write" when they ask what I do with my endless supply of free time. And if I can't say that I write then I just have to say "I'm lazy and I do nothing but live off of Brent's labor" and that feels really lousy to say...

So....yeah...

I'm writing today.

I don't really have much to say. I'm honestly tired of writing about grief right now, part of the grieving process I know. That point where you just don't even want to think about it if you can help it. There have been some sorting of her things email exchanges and some arrangement for the funeral details and the getting used to using the past tense when talking about her. My mother was...which is super fucking hard to do. But...I don't want to write a whole piece on that right now. You're welcome for the break as well.

BUT...

It still fills my head with this low level buzz all the time. That looking the calendar thing that happens the first year, it's been this many days, it's been this many weeks, it's been this many months...so it sort of blocks other things.

BUT...

I really need to write to clear it out. I really want to write to free my head. I love to write to go someplace else. I write so I don't make everyone else around me as crazy as I feel inside my head.

So...yeah...

I'm writing today.

And after that mini brain dump here is a little fiction scene that popped in my head while I was listening to music upstairs. It was a rock song about strippers. I thought, how many rock songs about strippers are there? And then remembered the stretch in the late 80s, early 90s (?) where it seemed like it was a thing that rock stars needed to do to show they'd made it. Record an album, chart, win an MTV award, date a porn star... And now you've made it!

So anyway, it's not part of a bigger story, it's not really anything, it's just one of those things that happen in my head all of the time. Little conversations between people who don't exist...

Enjoy...

"Wait, you're breaking up with me because why?"

"Well, you know, you're a...well you're not exactly...you...."

"I'm a stripper?  Yeah, you knew that. And I'm not exactly what? Wife material? Who the fuck wants to be your wife?"

He looked stunned, "What do you mean you don't want to be my wife?"

"I mean, I. Don't. Want. To. Be. Your. Wife. Why in the world would I want to marry someone like you?"

"What do you mean someone like me?"

"Someone who gets on stage and prances around trying to make the people who paid money to watch him imagine what it would be like to sleep with him? Why would I want to marry someone like that? I mean, for fuck's sake, how many people have you had sex with in your life? And can you even remember their names?"

"Wait a second..."

"For what? For you to tell me what you do and what I do aren't the exact same fucking thing?"

"I make music! I'm an artist!"

"I dance. I'm an artist."

"You are a stripper!"

"You are barely three chords and never the truth!"

"I can't believe you feel that way about me!"

She just looked at him then. Cocked her head and gave him one of those half smiles. "Pretty fucking insulting isn't it?"




So yeah...I wrote.