The “quarantine fifteen” everybody says don’t worry about is in kg, right? Asking for a fiend

Oh boy. Look out. Spellcheck’s on today that’s fart sure and I’m just gonna do the streak of concussion thing and see what hiballs

I haven’t enjoyed summer this much since I was a kid. I haven’t seen blue skies and this kind of hot dogs and been outside like this, day after day, going here and there and nowhere in particular since I was, like, 15, and I’ve worked every summer since.

Not that I’m not working this summer, but like everybody else, I’m working from homie and let’s just admit it: it’s easier and there’s loads more freedom and no commute and no lunch-making and time is not the big bully it was that’s for sure.

It’s off our back and spread out in front of us and we can pick and choose. Motley

And I do. If it’s a nice day which it almost always is I’ll do my work super-early and then go out for a big chunk of the day maybe to the beach or maybe just wandering around on foot or bike and then I’ll come back and finish the rest of my work as the sun shits.

OMG grow the fuckup

I watched a movie the other night (A Love Song for Bobby Long) and somebody (Scarlett Johanson) was reading The Heart Is A Lonely Hunter and it was one of the books her mother left her in a suitcase filled with really wonderful-looking well-used-and-much-loved books. The only other title I could see was The Great Gatsby but I wished I could have seen others because they were probably all right up my alley which is why I Amazoned The Heart Is A Lonely Hunter yesterday because I don’t know how I missed it but I missed it. Scarlett couldn’t put it down and it ended up changing her life or maybe it was the inscription in it that changed her life which was from a character played by John Travolta who is the greatest actor of our generation until I watch another movie.

And while I’m talking about Amazon, they tricked me into becoming a prime member which I know is less than ten fucks a month but holyfuckingshit I hate getting tricked like that. They make it look like there’s no way out and then there’s a little glimmer of hope with this one line you can click on that makes it look like you won’t have to fucking join after all but sure as shit soon as you click it you’re in and you’re paying unless you cancel in a month and they are hoping I can’t be bothered and as bothered as I am I probably can’t be. The fuckers.

I have developed a alcoholic ankle. Let it go, Sherry. It is actually only sore but it effaketively prevents me from roller-scardy

Okay. Another great thing about working from home is we don’t have to worry about what to wear or what about our hair or where’s my eyebrows? I mean I got a couple of pairs of shorts and a couple of tank tops and bathing suit tops and bottoms that don’t bother matching and it’s like I’m a kid at camp or something.

Also no bedtime which doesn’t mean much because I’m up so eerie I start thinking about bed before the sun does

I have a great big overflowing bookcase at the bottom of the stairs here and the books are stacked several rows deep on each shelf and then there’s a bunch of horizontal ones on top of them all and the other night I went to grab a book (they’re all good) and I decided on the Robert Benchley one that I told myself was out of bounds soon as I started writing this blog. That’s because he is so funny and the book My Ten Years In A Quandary and How They Grew is full of little articles he wrote in his newspaper column and they’re very blog-like and I was afraid I might copy him and I wanted to develop my own voice and it’s pretty easy to not exactly copy but to get into somebody else’s headspace when you admire their writing so much. I guess I mean I was afraid I’d sort of borrow his style, you know? Which is also why I can’t go anywhere near Dorothy Parker.

Anyway I read a bunch of the Robert Benchley ones that night and I don’t think it took but if you catch me writing opening paragraphs like his, here, please let me knock knock:

Today I heard a man say to his parrot: “Roll over!” and the parrot rolled over. This set me to thinking.

Mr. John Strickland, of Blackpool, England, claims to have set a new world’s record for consecutive hours of piano playing. He played for 122.5 hours without a stop. I haven’t really checked yet, but I think that the woman in the next apartment to mine is worth grooming as a challenger. She has the spirit, all right, and it would only be a question of wind.

I used to think that I was fairly adaptable to any unfamiliar circumstances in which I might find myself. Give me ten or fifteen minutes to get fully awake and I could make the best of a jail cell in Port Said or the Centre Court at Wimbledon. But I cannot believe that I am even making my best out of the present situation. I find myself the leasee of several orange, lemon and tangerine trees, which grow in the back yard of a house that I have rented, and adaptable as I am, I cannot seem to get the swing of it.

Aren’t they great?

Each little story is about 500 words and there are like 200 of them in this book of which I have three copies because you never know. I have multiple copies of my faves because I often shop in used book stores and what’s a couple of fucks for a back-up copy, you know?

You’re repeating yourself spellcheck and I’ve had just about enough anyway and it’s probably painful for people reading this. All two of them

Haha. Very funny, Spellcheck. You’re the best. And handsome, too!