What Semi-Busy People Do All Day (Pt I)
A reader requested post!
I want to know what a typical day is like for you. The way I imagine it seems highly unlikely, but would be really cool.
Ha. I’m dying to know what Mike’s thoughts were. Mike reads my Pen blog and was with me during my home office remodel and a couple of other things. Anyway. I’ll attempt to tackle the question, but I’m fairly certain it’s not going to be as exciting as folks might think.
Instead of detailing when I do various things, I’ll just tell you what I do on a “typical” day.
- Read. Basically any time I am trapped somewhere like say a doctor’s office or at the car dealership. In the car I listen to Audiobooks – never music. Currently, I’m reading Apex Hides the Hurt by Colson Whitehead who dazzles me with his prose, general geekery and fashion sense. In the car it’s The Andromeda Strain by Michael Crichton because I’m doing an essay entitled “In Defense of Airport Lit” and well I like Crichton’s work. In the bathroom/tub I’ve got The Rainmaker by John Grisham and Negrophobia by Darius James. Oddly enough the two are research for the same future blog post – Books to read in public so people won’t bother you.
- Read manuscripts and write reader’s reports. I tend to get behind on this because I can never resist reading other people’s stuff when they offer to send it to me. I am very thorough, which explains why Harriet J is still waiting for my reader’s report! By the way, she’s like a brilliant writer, beyond what folks might know of her blog writing. Intergalactic prose, preternatural command of voice and impeccable stylistic choices. That’s a check you can cash right now, as we’re all aware I ain’t known for being nice for being nice’s sake. Furthermore I never resist an opportunity to not only tell a person that they suck, but relish in listing off all the ways in which they suck. The good news? Well you know you’ll never get golf clap praise from me – ever.
- Gossip with La Mommie This is usually one the best part of the day. La Mommie and I have crafted our own language, which makes it real easy to talk shit when either of us are out and about and happen to be one of those annoying cellphone people chatting in public. A day doesn’t suck, it’s a Hard Candy Christmas. As in, “Well what can I say…the dogs gotten to the trash again. Yeah, it’s been a real Hard Candy Christmas around here.” We talk about movies – cause she knows more than me, though I know actors actual names – “Muriel’s got a new TV show! I like that Muriel.” (Toni Collette). “Stands with Fists and Lt. Castillo are really good on that Dynasty in outer space show.” She’s been calling Don Johnson “Don Johnston” for two decades and I’m pretty sure he’s already put the T in his name, though not of course, professionally. Our phone calls are great, but pale when compared to our Laverne & Shirley era where we bunked up and she would read “news of the wacky” type items to me while we both were in our bedrooms (on separate floors). “Ange, listen to this. Tsk tsk tsk. A man got arrested for robbing a bank moments after he deposited his check. Apparently he deposited his stick up note and not the check. Oh this is nice. The bank has waved the overdraft fees incurred when he bounced a few items due to his mistake. Hmmm, maybe I ought to open an account with them.” She’s also speaks in Tarantino admonishing us to empty the dishwasher lest we find ourselves in a “Bonnie Situation”. We don’t want no parts of that! She is given to applying “Make it go away, McCoy!” any situation she finds useful. “Hey, Ma what do you want us to -” …”Just make it go away, McCoy!” or if admitting resignation she might say, “Well I opted to plead it out.”
- Gym. Oh man I fucking hate the gym. But I go. At least five times a week and loathe EVERY SINGLE FREAKING SECOND, except when I hear the glorious two punch of “Gonna Fly Now” and “Switch”. If the gym is empty and why wouldn’t it be at 1am, I totally do “no no fingers” to Switch. Ooh La La La.
- Daily Cleaning Tasks. Twenty minutes – I set a timer, actually I set a timer for most things – and hit every room in the house. I have it down to a science and even manage to usually get laundry cycled and sometimes folded, unless I just end up putting it on straight from the dryer, which I am known to do. This is when I blast music. Loud and proud. Always whatever song I’m currently obsessed with (Computer Love by Zapp). I can’t get enough of the TALKBOX. This is often where I get ideas for writing. I’ve been researching lots about Zapp and their various tragedies, and tragedies in the 80s R&B world as a whole. You think HipHop has dramedy, shit, Between Zapp, Phyllis Hyman, Bobby DeBarge and Marvin Gaye, R&B done got plenty of hot buttered tragedy.
To be continued in the aptly titled Part II. No T-Wilburys trickery here