Lost drafts
Will I ever remember the information in the lost drafts I have created, all the Turkish names, smiles, puns, and what-nots?
Entries Tagged as 'revising the draft'
My private cinema
There are reasons I don’t have a cable subscription. This way I don’t get lost into the mindnumbingness and sort of schedule my own private screenings, with surround sound and all. The news I read over the Internet, which is also faster and more selective for me. I have managed to avoid this way the many “news” items on murder, rape and neighbours.
But, to the point of my entry, let me list what I have not listed but watched since our last similar entry.
Chuecatown - another gay/bear movie
A Beautiful Mind - by the end of it I was clearly sobbing.
Red Cliff - this was a “leftover” I had to finish.
Coco avant Chanel - this was at the cinema.
Harold & Kumar Go to White Castle - kinda gross, but.
Thank you for smoking - “If you want the easy job go work for the Red Cross”.
Juste une question d’amour - coming out story with sexy protagonists and believable story.
La Spagnola - sold as “The best Australian comedy since Muriel’s Wedding”, this is no comedy!
Matchstick Men - moving, if you came to think about what actually makes us change.
Lucky Number Slevin - first attempt to watch it failed for some reason, but nevertheless loved it this time from beginning till end.
Creative therapies
Letting myself go. Not eating right. Not eating. Not going out, unless I have to. I usually don’t have to. Not buying stuff to drink. Drinking. Resorting to others to bring me stuff to drink. Drinking almost every night. Drinking with a constant moderation that makes me wonder if I am an alcoholic. Resenting phone conversation. Resenting making calls. Resenting making just about anything. Considering clipping my toe nails a big breakthrough. Smiling and joking when others try tackle my problems. Napping mid day, I know I will miss these ones. Letting things pile up. Piling up things. Not seeing a point. Reading a little. Reading too little. All that fat. Cleaning the house, never quite getting the job done. Avoiding the fridge, avoiding the owen. Setting modest goals for the day. Failing at them the first times. Like planning to pick up the dry cleaning. Lingering in the supermarket isle without being able to spot the right foil. Leaving without it. Avoiding anything that would actually remind me of you. Following you on Twitter. Admitting I am damaged. Generally floating. I have no idea where this current will take me and whatever I can do won’t change much… this much was saved…
Quadruple nil
I am a special agent. Of course, this an open invite to contradict me.
LATER EDIT: one day and so far no contradiction. My friends are clearly somewhere else in the blogosphere 
Black from Berlin
It’s one of those postings where I am not sure if I have done it before because I have been meaning to do it for too long now. And, surprise, it’s gonna have to actually wait for a later edit too.
Finally, LATER EDIT: back with me, and black, here they are, the Babushka phone case, the Jost leather bag and the baggy pants from Belleville.
Blogging from bed
I’ll become the old witch. The frustration, feeling cheated by fate and having little to do to make that right make me old. Old and wrinkly on the inside. They turn me into someone I don’t want to be.
My recent dream featured the first half of a live dog, and talking to Ion Iliescu at a public event, while Basescu was giving his speach. How twisted is that? I mean…
I have just found the above in my drafts folder and I cannot remember the dreams. But I can tell it was from my one month unemployed time.
Mambojambo
I don’t know what it is with nuts and chocolate, I cannot stop. And cold water. Glass after glass.
This morning the boiled eggs have almost convinced me they had a soul rising to the sky right from the kitchen table and it was a damn straight line of steam going up.
Another draft
And I have almost accidentally touched her in a way that seemed inappropriate. Had my glimpse been words, it would have read “Ooops, was that awkward? I’m sorry.”
I was annoyed by my neighbour upstairs who kept on working rather loudly till close to midnight.
My photos were not selected.
The financial crisis translates jokes about women into jokes about banks: “on the left side there is nothing right, on the right side there is nothing left”.
Later edit: Yesterday I met and shared the same elevator with my neighbour upstairs. She sort of mentioned the mess and sort of apologized, but I am not the one to hold a grudge, so I told her not to worry. She is much much older than I remembered. This post has just been rescued from draft purgatory.
Draft, for the ugly little duck in me
I remember looking at them, two beautiful young ladies, the younger sister a bit more beautiful, the older more in the know. The younger looked perfect. Again, they were both quite a looker. I remember thinking the guys didn’t look like much. The older sister’s was sharp smart like a knife, the other was kind and so young, most of the time made me think he was a kid. Both were funny. I have never wanted to imagine what was going in the sack. But I remember wondering how come. I guess it’s because life plays in ways I won’t even start to count. The possibilities are endless. That pretty much gives me hope for anything.
No mind games
Such read one of London’s walls, in a book about graffiti and urban coolture.
But I like to take a cheeseburger to go and eat it in front of the fancy gardens of snobbish restaurants while looking in the plates of honest paying customers, to see if there is any shade of guilt.
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