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It’s all about the recaps. It’s a show made of recaps from previous shows. I purposefully skipped the first 40 minutes. These guys are all a bunch of idiots. They are turning on one another. Wes has not shown up, because he will probably come in at the very end for some kind of surprise. They are all trying to humiliate Jake because he is too perfect and too sweet (however, he just referred to himself in the third person; kind of irritating). I don’t remember any of these guys, to be honest. Who are these women in the audience? Oh, okay time for a short break because the show has been on now for three minutes. You know what, I’m going to go ahead and time the difference between the commercials and the actual airtime of the show. >Show returns at: 8:47 p.m. Don’t forget the 20 minutes of clapping in between the scenes. I can’t tell you how much hair mousse has been used in the making of this show. Dave is the crazy dude who has decided to grow a beard for the recap Juan is being atta...
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On the Streets Where You (and I) Live

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Have done my usual walking around on the weekends--met up with Celia yesterday and we trekked to Circle Thrift and then over to my house so she could admire the cats and cat dustballs. She noticed right away that Emma Carol has crazy eyes. Like, she always looks like she's about to take off running or attack a fly or turn in spastic circles. There may be photos of her tomorrow. I should keep a meter of the things I typically see. Yesterday: Crazy homeless person: 1. This was a skinny Black woman who was waving plastic bags in the air in a stairwell on Broad St. near Circle Thrift. Celia guessed that she was either on crack or crystal meth. The woman kept swatting at imaginary things and organizing the bags and then flailig them every which way as though landing an unseen plane. Then she got up and walked across the busy street wearing men's bedroom slippers. Below, please note two men on Broad St. One is pointing to the homeless lady. Funny cats: 1. This particular cat had its ...
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Me, Me, Me

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How does one balance self-promotion and modesty? I don't know. So, like, I want to tell you good things that are happening to me, but at the same time, I feel like apologizing for being so self-centered. Pretend I'm writing about someone else. Not me. Not me got an e-mail the other day from a literary agent who read my story, "Wanted," in Cimmaron Review and said that he thinks that I could do well with a novel. He suggested that I send him 50 pages of a novel and he would read it and potentially shop it out to publishers. I wrote back to tell him that I do have a book of short stories coming out and that I had a couple of ideas for a novel. He responded with an anticlimactic e-mail that basically said, Well, when you have 50 pages, let me know. I think I could write an Evie book, but I don't know what it would be about. I am resistant to writing this Bridget Jones type book where everything works out in the end and the fat girl gets the hot guy. I'd rather...
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