Come To The Inn Of No Sleep

Have I mentioned lately how much I loathe the smell of my own perspiration?  I stink right now because I slept in and the house was warm because I forgot to turn off the heat.  Then I got going on my coffee drinking which is known to make a body perspire even more.  Ick.  I am not writing this post to regale you with all my nastiness though.

First I wanted to share this wonderful (possibly authentic?) sign that is hanging in the Hotel Oregon which reminded me that I would love to have an Inn sign at my own house with a permanent "no vacancies" sign on it so that Philip won't have to worry that people will actually believe our house is an Inn.  (Cause who doesn't want to stay at an Inn between a bunch of adult foster care homes and a nursing home facility?  Tres chic!).  I want it to look like an old wooden Inn sign from the 1500's.  Something with "thistle" in it or "Boar's guts".  I was trying to find that post in which we decided on a name for this farmhouse but I will have to look harder.

The last post was reminding me of questions I have for other writers.  For writers who have actually been published.  Especially writers who base their work on their own lives, like David Sedaris and Laurie Notaro.  Another favorite is Anne Lamott.  I like their works of nonfiction the best and I want to know how they told the truth about their lives without alienating everyone they know?  How did they not get sued?  How have they kept integrity?  What have they left out?  I was thinking that it would be great to write a book in which all of these writers are interviewed the same interview, to answer the questions above and have each of them write a story about an experience they had as writers that got them in hot water.  Am I the only one who thinks that would be a riveting book?  I was thinking I could be the editor of such a work.*

People don't like to be written about in an unflattering light. 

I am hungry to know the details, the processes, the struggles that writers have with their work.  I have a few writer friends (one who lives locally and the others are blog friends) and I love talking with them about their work and how they go about doing it, getting to the meat, or what they do about writer's block?  What are they really trying to accomplish and how do they block out everyone else's voices to concentrate on their own?  How do they write fiction that isn't a facsimile of the life they've led and the people they know?  How is fiction even possible?  Does the fact that I have to ask that question make it unlikely that I am capable of writing it?  And if you write nonfiction, how do you do it without being lynched? 

Excuse me a moment, as much as I'm already on a roll here, I simply can't stand the smell of my sweat any more.  I must take a shower.  The scent is too distracting for words.



Now I have watched all the episodes on one disc of Dexter and I'm bummed that there were only three episodes on one disc when normally a disc has at least four.  I feel cheated.  What's more annoying is that I've had the itch to write but am unclear what is trying to loose its self from my head.  I usually feel clear.  I know there are things in the front-line of my brain wanting out but there is no expression for them besides direct communication but I'm not allowed. 

So I'll work on the tiny details like how, long before I ever took acid, I could see the particles of air, the molecules that came together there like tiny reflective universes waiting to be opened up like little pomegranate seed fortunes.

Wait, that just makes me sound crazy.  Oh, it's coming now.  Coming now.  It's becoming less blurry, like old photographs going backwards in time.  I go backwards here too.  You will see it in time.

Good night.





*If you steal my idea, just be warned that it is written here and I will haunt you and start a major smear campaign.  Or maybe I'll just cry a lot.