Not sure how I feel about that.
March 2011
Tonight at the Providence Athenaeum, we’re doing micro-memoir! again. Show up at five, drink wine, eat scones, and by 8 you’ll leave the room with a very short memoir of your very own, which at that point you may have even shared with an audience of fellow memoirists. Free and open to the public.
Providence Athenaeum
251 Benefit Street
5-8 pm*
(*The actual workshop part starts at 5:30, in case you work until 5.)
Today was… very stressful, to say the least. But I did not drink any alcohol! Even though I wanted to SO SO BADLY. I went to the mall and got a Mississippi Mud Pie brownie thing at the Nordstrom eBar, instead. (It was almost totally flavorless) And I went to a bar and drank soda water while my boyfriend helped me figure out a strategy for the next forty-eight hours. (I will not get into that here.) And then I had some caffeine-free tea. But now I feel much better.
There are some things keeping me in balance: I’ve lost four pounds since Lent started, despite the fact that I live on a diet of french fries and ice cream and blue cheese dressing. (Not all at once, although who’s to say I won’t change that tomorrow.) Also I spent an hour cleaning my desk today. My desk might actually be usable as a desk soon, rather than as a place to put old receipts and crap I can’t compartmentalize into other drawers.
Now, bed.
(25 days left…)
Yes, but do new generations of music fans actually go out of their way to listen to albums of re-recordings? I mean, I don’t doubt that a new generation of fans would really like Kate Bush, because she’s got a lot of quirky appeal.
[pause for the jet]
But it’s not as if she’s really buried that far under the surface now, is she? And it’s not like albums of old people revisiting past hits get radio play, or even in-store play anywhere except places like Borders. (And you see where that’s going.)
It’s not personal! My dashboard’s just been very cloggy lately, to the point where I either don’t read anything at all or read way too much.
Are you trying to kill me?
[UPDATE: I guess the word is mompreneurs, not momtrepreneurs. Oops.]
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