Yoga for Bourbon
That’s a spellcheck dig. It’s supposed to say Yoga for Beginners because although I have performed the downward dog once or twice, it was either over a porcelain bus or someone*, rather than a yoga mat as per you
I have avoided actual yoga all my life. I always thought it was for sissies and the annoyingly woke.
The joke for yoga’s the same as for vegans:
Q: How do you know somebody’s a vegan/yoga-er?
A: They fucking tell you.
But yoga’s no fucking joke. It’s brutal.
I did take a class once because the guy at my gym practically begged me because otherwise there’d be only one person in the class and so I said okay but I regretted it immediately and it remains one of the most awkward and horrible hours of my recent life in spite of quite a few awkward and horrible hours* let me tell you. Talk about suppressed laughter. I thought it was ridiculous.
I’m all for the body part but you can keep the spiritual edge to yourself. Fuck that
But because of the hill I guess my hips were starting to click which means tight muscles and so I googled stretching and now I am doing youtube yoga and there’s no time between grunts for any of that Zen shit.
And luckily, I am usually too busy saying fuuucccckkk to hear when she says to relax my eyeballs
So I set my phone alarm last night and took a quick look at my email and there was one from Medium and I had one free story left so I figured I’d look through and see what was what. I am a Medium member and I actually publish on Medium too but I am unable to get my phone to understand this so although I can read interesting stories and articles all day on my laptop I am limited to three a month on my phone because, as I said, phone-Medium doesn’t know I pay.
So last night I was browsing, trying to pick my last story and of course they all sounded great but I had to be choosy. So I passed up The Single Most Underrated Trait a Person Can Have and then I passed up Why Jonathan Swan’s Interview with Trump is So Good and then I passed up You’re Not Crazy–You’re Being Breadcrumbed which sort of reminded me of one of my blog headings and I nearly clicked but then I saw the one beneath it which I clicked on right away and guess what. Yup. I’d already used all my free stories.
So I went to bed thinking about this: Nick is Gay and Why Knowing This is Essential to Reading The Great Gatsby
Now Nick is one of my favourite characters not just in The Great Gatsby but in all fiction, and I always thought The Great Gatsby is much more about him than it is about Gatsby and although I thought Leonardo was a great (sorry) Gatsby, I think Toby Maguire was a lousy Nick but Sam Waterston, the OG, was perfect and when I read the book, which I still do, over and over again, he is the one I picture.
Anyway. I’m glad things worked out the way they did, you know, I’m Zen about it
Because it’s only opinion anyway and I don’t want to know what this person thinks because I quite simply don’t care. I mean really, you might as well tell me what Nick’s favourite colour is or how he takes his coffee because it means just about as much to me as whether or not he is gay which makes no difference, not even a little bit, about how the book makes you feel when you read it.
Nothing is essential to reading The Great Gatsby so much as an open mind except maybe a willing heart
Three more things I am obsessing over and I wish you were too:
The Heart is a Lonely Hunter
I told you that I’d ordered it and why, and it’s here and I’m reading it and loving every word. Carson McCullers wrote it when she was 23. It is precious and fragile and almost like reading glass if you know what I mean.
FLEABAG
So I heard this was a good show. My eldest daughter told me about it. Said I’d love it. But I didn’t get around to it for whatever reason. Last time I was in Chapters I saw it, navy blue hardcover with nice type on front that said FLEABAG The Scriptures and I leafed through it and didn’t die for it until I got home. So I looked on Amazon but for whatever reason I didn’t order it and then I got a notification from the Toronto Public Library that a book I had ordered was ready for pick up and while I was on the site I searched for FLEABAG and got on the wait list. And then I saw there were a few digital copies but it was the same sort of struggle trying to get the digital library to understand that I am already a member as it is for the Medium conundrum but I managed to figure it out and now I am reading FLEABAG on my laptop. Like obsessively. It’s so dirty. So funny. So shockingly everything.
My Brilliant Friend
It’s an HBO series and it will take your breath away with its profound beauty.
All three of these things colour the way I look at the world which is what makes stories so amazing, right?
Okay so I started out quarantine saying I would post an episode of Clutterbucks every week for the duration but I think we all figured six weeks tops so I ended up posting the conclusion of Season One just last week and when I put it all together I’ve got myself a nice little 200 page manuscript so I’m taking it off my blog and will give it some fine-tuning and love until it’s perfect. That’s the only goal right now. Perfection
But with my open mind and willing heart, like, holyfuckingshit. Who knows?
And in the Fall I’ll start posting Season Two, likely as a script because of what happens at the end of Season One which is the protagonist is asked to write a sit-com, and it’s brewing in a nice big blowsy way.
Anyway. Enough about me, right? How are you?
