What a field day for the heat
A thousand people in the street
Singing songs and carrying signs
Mostly saying, "hooray for our side"

Friday, September 16, 2011

What dreams may come

The other morning at about 4am, Bette got up to let the cats in and gave them cell phones so they could call us when they needed to be let in. Of course their bluetooth headsets weren't working right so one of them came back to the bedroom, mewing at me to fix it. You know, being that I'm the only possessor of a "Y" chromosome in the house and am the resident technical support.

Or at least that's what I thought happened in my semi-conscious state. What really happened is she heard one of the cat mewling at the front door and got up to let her in, and I was hearing one mewling at the back door to be let in. Our cats are special that way.

Because, you know, it's completely ridiculous to give the cats cell phones. We had insisted on the unlimited texting plans and they don't even have opposable thumbs. Silly, really. Although the bluetooth hands-free headsets made sense. Somewhat.

And this is why that semi-conscious state, or "twilight/fugue" state is so damn important to writers. The boundaries of the world and logic are thinner than tissue and more fluid than the bi-phospholipid layer of cells.

This weekend I'm on a writers retreat, so I will possibly be very absent on the intertubies. Of course when I've said that before I've deluged you all with posts. We'll play it by ear then, shall we?

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