"LAST NIGHT I DREAMT..."

Last night, I had a dream that my Dad and I were having lunch and he said he was so proud of me for everything I accomplished at an age I have yet to reached. When I told him I am just under a year from that age, he said, "I know, I'm telling you that the fastest-moving three weeks yet will be that year so you have to be ready." Then, our outfits kept changing-- we were originally in suits, then we were all hippie'd up with dreadlocks and such, then, we were in this very French les apaches sort of vintagey threads, then we were in combat fatigues, then this sort of 18th century gaudy get-up.

Um, oooookay. Whatevs. I welcome any interpretations of that one.

So, in other news, I have this really bonkers idea, with a very cool end result, so if I come up to any of youse and do one of those hold-the-camera-at-arm's-length-and-press-our-heads-together sort of photos, and I happen to have a salt shaker in my hand, just go along with it. It's best not to ask, but just to know that the end result will be cool. Truuuuuuust me.

"REEL AROUND THE PROJECT"

Big deadliney day. I got some very vague parameters for this project, so I am mostly writing nothing. I wrote a little, but not a lot. Not as much as I need to write to work it out. Few things frustrate me as this issue does. Sometimes too much leeway makes my brain shut down, boggling with possibilities and unable to narrow any of them down to something useful.


In other news, my Dad made contact from his trip and appears not to have been kidnapped so I'm relieved, Mermaidhead is having a rough go of this pregnancy business and is on bedrest from here on out so I'm trying to think of fun activities I can supply her with that don't require moving, I need to track down one more author for the June 28th installation of the Fixx Reading Series, my cat figured out how to jump on top of the doors in the apartment, but can't figure out how to get down so he cries sadly from doortops, I just learned the term "cunt helmet" to describe a person switching into an unreasonably rude mode (As in: "Gee, I didn't get much sleep last night, so I totally have the cunt helmet on today." This is gold.), and boy, oh boy, is my head starting to hurt.

I believe I want a new trash can.

I also believe my cat hates my plants. C'mon plants, ignore that cat digging you up and live, damnit! Live! You were doing so well!

Seriously, I am so stumped on this writing project that I got down on my kitchen floor yesterday on all fours and scrubbed it down with bleach. Still, nothing. Sigh.

"THE MORE YOU IGNORE ME, THE CLOSER I GET"

Bocci balls, you guys. Read this! I, of course, got permission from the source of this email to post it and will allow your comments fuel the result.

Dear Ms. Guth,

I am a really big fan of yours. I have read Three Fallen Women three times and every time I have read it, I get more and more out of it. Your writing is brilliant, incredible and has even been haunting at times.

My purpose for writing is two-fold. First I am curious if you are aware of any sort of fan club for you and your writing? I found many places on the web that had very positive things written about you, but nothing official so I wonder if you have a fan club offline or something? Secondly, if not, I wonder if you would consider starting one, or really, letting me start one. I am sure you would have many members. I will not start it if you are uncomfortable, but I think it would be really cool and lots of people would join it and you could maybe be involved a little so you'd feel comfortable with what was happening with it.

The email goes on, but that is really the crux of it. Initially, I laughed at the thought of this. Then, I thought well, it couldn't hurt. Then, I laughed again. Then, I emailed back and forth with this fellow and got his permission to post part of the email here so we can suss it all out in the comment section.

I think my only hang-up is something in the vein of a fear that having a fan club might make me look... uh... what's the word I want? It might make me look ridiculous? Which is silly because plenty of authors have fan clubs and they don't look ridiculous and I am really very touched to have such wonderful readers and should probably let them run with their whims. Anyway, what gives? What do you think? Let's work this out. How should I handle this? At this moment, I am on the fence.

"I WONDER TO MYSELF..."

I conquered my fear of schmoozing. I can hang in front of a huge crowd. I do fine enough in tough heart-to-heart conversations. So, have I conquered it all? Nope. There is one frontier I have yet to work on, I realize. The casual hanging out conversations. The thing that schmoozing often leads to.

That's so silly, I realize! Over email and text, I'm great. But call me up just to say hello and I feel like a dork and a half. Invite me for coffee and I clam up. It's not a great quality and I suspect it frustrates people around me with the inclination to socialize more often. But, sometimes we have to get fed up with something before we can move away from it effectively.

Anyway, I had some thoughts over the weekend about this and will, of course, we mindful of it. I don't have to carry the whole conversation. I'm not a dick if I let a lull happen from time to time, in fact, sometimes a silence is rather good.

In other news, I added a little more pink to the pink, burgundy and brown masterpiece I call my hair and had a revelation about mitosis and the artful, historic and literary applications of it.

"IN BETWEEN DAYS"

I am in a tidy up and decompress mood today. I went to a really great social action brainstorming session last night that was both informative and just the shot in the arm I needed. It was nice to hear really grounded people talking about no social goal being too lofty and being willing to show people everything they know about organizing and mobilizing and brianstorming and cooperation and project management.

It was wonderful! So wonderful. I have been thinking a lot about that sort of thing lately, so I really soaked up the information and felt heartened to see so many people working so well and doing such good work.

It's snowy, I have Simpsons dvds in deck, a pot of veg matzah ball soup on the stove, a new issue of Kiplinger's magazine (nerd) to read, some magenty hair to touch-up, a sleepy cat that is forcing his way into my lap who, apparently, needs petting and a friend who talked me into making a business website for him (nerd). So, my afternoon is booked solid.

"MIXED UP 14"

Welcome to another edition of "If It Could Only Still Be Socially Acceptable To Make A Mix Tape, This Is What I Would Put On One This Week" Saturday... but, before I get into any of it, I have to tell you that I just ate a tofu scramble sitting about five feet away from Andrew Bird at Lulu's.

1.Tables & Chairs/Andrew Bird
2. Sick/Sneaker Pimps
3. Being From Jersey Means Never Having To Say You're Sorry/Cobra Starship
4. I Know It's True But I'm Sorry To Say/Violent Femmes
5. La Vie En Rose/Edith Piaf
6. Voices Carry/Til Tuesday
7. Fascination Street/The Cure
8. All You Zombies/The Hooters
9. Too Much Information/The Police
10. Mad World/Tears For Fears
11. Mirror In The Bathroom/The English Beat
12. Pulling Mussels From The Shell/Squeeze
13. Fake Palindromes/Andrew Bird
14. Work, Work, Work/The Rakes
15. Parade of Punk Rock T-Shirts/Maritime

Well, I'm off to social action committee biznass here in a bit, so I need to go make myself look responsible, said the woman with magenta stripes in her hair. Heh.

"DISPLAYING YOUR NAME"

Still sick, but on the upswing.

I got motivated and went to the supermarket a yesterday afternoon. I walked in and was met with a most unusual scene. The upperclassmen of a fraternity had descended upon the store for a scavenger hunt and were playing produce football, launging with the manager, shouting things to each other like, "Big fag Slovieski on aisle four!"

Good times. I rallied for a bit and went to dinner with Partridge and Waterflicker and strangely, was approached by a woman with a tiny notebook, asking us to write a few things about purple. I jotted her a little story about purple a guy, whom the narrator hated and was saddened by, though she kept his goldfish. Waterflicker wrote her a haiku and Partridge gave her a list of sorts. Anyway, I wasn't able to rally for long, as I haven't had much sleep in the past week or so, so I started to fade and went home and right to bed.

Anyhoot, if you will again pardon me for a vanterie sans scrupule, three reviews I wrote are up on Bookslut. Swing by. Give them a look. Click around.

Because I haven't been terribly productive in the last few days because I haven't been feeling too spiffy, I woke up with that vague panic this morning that I get when I feel behind. Back to work.