It's Clear I Have A Cellophane Heart

I have 30 minutes to write. Less, if I don't want to head out of the house tonight reeking of today's accumulated sweat and sporting hair not unlike Nick Nolte's now famous mug shot. I am going to a drag show, and don't want to be mistaken for one of the performers on break between Liza Minnelli numbers. (Any good gay, by the way, would know how to spell Liza's last name. I confess that I had google it.)

Did you mean: liza minnelli

Why, yes. Yes I did. Thanks for asking. (Show off.)

No writing idea came to me when I let the dog out just now to pee. (To clarify, I let the dog out so that she could pee. I do not, let it be known, have to let the dog out in order to go pee myself, even though the previous sentence reads as such.) I did see a spider being eaten by hundreds of ants, and I squatted (not to pee) and watched that for a bit. Shiny and spastic and crawling all over each other. A mosh pit of ants. I also looked at my dog and thought about how glad I am that I don't have to pee outside in the heat, or in any weather, for that matter. But these are inconsequential thoughts, and are not worthy of blogging, despite the fact that by stating this, I'm doing exactly that. Damn it.

So, in the time that I have left, I'm just going to go for a freewrite. A no-editing, turn off the inner critic, let-it-all-out freewrite. I'll do that until I run out of steam or until my alarm sounds. In this way, I take no responsibility for the entertainment value (or lack of) what's about to go down. Oh, and it's going down, alright....

And-uh one, and-uh two, and-uh-

My dog is looking at me like she knows. She knows how it goes. "I'm no feeble animal stuck on the wire, you liar!" Ears pinned back and tail wagging to throw me off. Throw me off the building. I'm building a rapport with you right now (care for me to light your cigarette?) Ashes, ashes, we all fall down the rabbit hole. Rabbit pellets litter my lawn. A tiny, tiny game of croquet? (Do you play?) The house is open. I'm holding an open house, to be sure. Rip the plastic off of the sofa! Fold the tv trays! Goodbye, Lawrence Welk, I'm turning the dial UVF click and click and pow! Screen goes black but the center. A pinpoint of light. The tv still buzzes and I know Lawrence Welk is in there somewhere looking out. Tinier, tinier, tinier.....faint buzz and poof. Now it's just me and the cicadas sue-EEEEE sue-EEEEE sue-EEEEEEEEE Their bellies rub or legs rub or somesuchthing and the noise gets caught in between my toes. Who knows if the clocks go backwards will I have to eat breakfast again? Today I called my only friend and the line was busy. "Let me in! Let me in!" But I can't hear you if you whisper, silly. My friend Billy showed me a piece of poo dangling from his bum one time. I yelled (who wouldn't?) He was spanked (I think) and sent home (I'm sure). I promised to never bring it up again and do, anyway, several times a year. It's clear I have a cellophane heart.