A friend announced he was thinking of his age as the temperature and decided he would convert it from Fahrenheit to Celsius, which would make it him just 22 years old.
Floofhaste
Floofhaste (floofinition) – The need to do something quickly for an animal.
In use: “The looks they were giving and the noises they made ordered Tanya, ‘Feed me now,’ sending her to replenish the food bowls floofhaste.”
Grieving A Writing Life
This is a beautiful post about the writing life. It’s often about ‘the next’ whatever when you’re searching for success — the next manuscript, concept, story, idea, novel. The next moment, the next attempt, the next time you sit down to write, the next questioning moment about your goals and determination, the next day of joy over writing progress, the next day of weariness and rejection, the next new resolve, the next day of squaring your shoulders, sucking in a breath and whispering words of encouragement to yourself in your mind, one more time.
When you start out in the writing community, you’re learning, and part of that process is seeing those before you rise.
Just as you’re entering the query trenches, there are others being lifted out of them with agent representation and publishing deals, and you wait patiently for the day that person will be you.
Before you know it, years have gone by. You’ve been part of the writing community for a long time, helping those who are now the newbie you once were.
Experienced in the query trenches, you’ve seen it all, gotten every rejection type there is: the no answer, the form letter, the good but not good enough. You might have even hit that 100 rejections goal you’d heard other writers talk about but never thought you’d reach because your MS was too good. At least you thought so.
You might have rewritten it since those lofty…
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Friday’s Theme Music
“Hey, Friday.”
Friday glanced over at the man accosting her. She was used to fans but sometimes they were too much, too close. Too weird could also often be applied to her fans.
“Hello,” she answered with a shiny smile.
The man hustled up to her, over ideal recommendations for weight and age, graying and stooping. “I’ve been waiting for you for I don’t know how long. I’m your biggest fan.”
“Why, thank you. Fans like you and your sweet encouragement keeps me going.”
The man’s expression clouded over. Friday knew it; having met his hero, he didn’t know what to say. “So, you gonna be here all day?” he said, and even he recognized that he’d drilled the top of the lamometer with that one.
“Yep, all day.” Friday resumed her stroll. “I got here at midnight and will leave at midnight tonight. Right now I’m enjoying the sunshine.”
“Right, yeah, did you know that sunrise was at 5:35 this morning and sunset will be at 8:51 tonight, which are the same exact times as yesterday?”
“No, I didn’t know that.” Friday shoveled astonished enthusiasm into her tone. “Thanks for telling me.”
“Can I get a selfie with you?”
“Sure, sugar.” Friday bent in a way to emphasize her curves and pouted in a sexy manner, putting on a show for her fan.
Checking the photo, he said, “Wow, that’s so great. You made my day, Friday. You made my life. Thank you so much. You’re the best.”
“No, you’re the best,” she replied, kissing his cheek, feeding off his pleasure. “Have a good day, now.”
Friday moved on. She had somewhere to be before the sun set.
Today is June 24, 2012. Temperature is 64 F now after dropping to 55 during the night, with expectations that it’ll nip at 90 F before the day is through.
“Fat Bottomed Girls” by Queen from 1978 is in the morning mental music stream, a product of seeing a guy ride by when I was out walking yesterday. First the neurons sang, “I want to ride my bicycle, I want to ride my bike,” from “Bicycle Race” by Queen, and then the neurons pivoted and brought in the other song. So, here I am, sitting at home at the computer with a bicycle song churning up my mental stream.
Stay positive and test negative. The hands on the clock say it’s coffee time. Enjoy your Friday. Here’s the tune. Cheers
Buying A House Dream
I was out of the military but with a group of people who were all former military pilots and friends of mine. A celebratory air raked the outdoor gathering. We were jubilant although I don’t know why. I knew I was being awarded a bonus of some manner and was telling that to my wife. Rumors said that I was getting a new car. When she asked, what kind of new car, I began walking around, showing her the others’ cars. All were silver, exotic sports cars, very modern. All were missing at least one wheel, but usually two. When K inquired why that, I explained it was for security, to keep the car from getting stolen. One car particularly struck me because its rear half was modeled after a fish’s tail. I thought that was really cool. No accounting for tastes in dreams.
A woman came by telling us that we needed to buy a house soon because prices were rising. My wife and I asked her how many were available. She answered, “Three. They’ll go quickly. You need to move fast.” After consulting briefly with my wife, I put a bid in on one. We were told we won, it was ours.
We were ecstatic. Our bid had been $540,000. Shortly after, one of my pilot companions came by and told me that the house had gone up in price to $620,000. Then another came along and said, “Oh, now it’s $700,000.” The woman realtor smiled, finished paperwork and replied, “That’s okay, it’s already theirs.”
Dream end
Michael Seidel, writer 