Since I've Been Gone...

Friends,

Yeah, I should have led this off with the rest of the Kelly Clarkson classic that I refer to in the title of this, but, I don't know what she says next. Something about the first time. That's all I got.

First, sorry it's been about two weeks since I wrote last on here, so I do intend on getting back on bloggin schedule, but we got to start somewhere and kind of assess where the world and I am since I last posted with that delightfully screwy Gee-Dub pic....

1) Lance Bass is out for being gay. Honestly, I can't imagine the stress and decision making that must go into that, especially being a public figure, but I have two thoughts regarding the timing of that announcement... 1) A shame this wasn't during the height of the boy band frenzy because I can only imagine the slew of jokes that would have been on the Late Night shows and in high school hallways. Oh, the hilarity would see no end. Nothing more funny than sexuality, lemme tell ya, especially in a climate where homosexuality is thought of to be some kind of gypsy curse by the current administration. I have to say here though that next time you watch a late night talk show, specifically the Tonight Show...look how tanned that guy is. It's freakish. Dave do, but Jay Leno is mutantly tanned. They must have to oil him like a new baseball glove to keep his hide limber. And thought 2 about Lance Bass gay coming-out...oh, how I wish he could have went up into space with the Russians and came out then. How great would that scene have been? One of those classic astronaut floating around in the ship scenes, there's Lance bobbing in the background and holds up a little sign that instead of saying Hi, Mom, says something like Hi, Mom, I'm gay!...Then the other astronauts have an awkward moment as they float there unsure as what to say or how to proceed. Talk about a way to come out. I mean, you hear stories about those fabled holiday coming outs, but coming out from outer space on worldwide television? That would be one of the greatest moments of television history. Right in between Jack Ruby shooting Oswald and Lucy shoving all those chocolates in her mouth.

2) The guy who won the Tour de France tested positive for extra testosterone. I don't see how that's possible. How can a guy allegedly busted at the seams with man hormone not have a mustache? You'd think with that much testosterone he would leave puddles of manliness behind him and all those who passed under his shadow would sprout facial hair. So, no mustache, no testosterone doping. Pretty simple test.

3) I read a Cormac McCarthy book and a Kurt Vonnegut book. So now I want to write stories about alien bloodbaths in some strange planet called Alatexarkana millions of light years to the Milk Way's south. Now I'm gonna read Marilynne Robinson's Housekeeping. No telling what that's gonna do to me. I've read it before and all it gave me was near-sightedness and an appreciation for not using dialogue tags. But, that's about it.

4) I've come to the conclusion that the best shitter books are non-fiction books. I can't explain it. Every time I try to read a piece of fiction in there, I just get bored. Magazines, non-fiction books, newspapers, all of them just seem to fit my mood better in those precious times. Right now I'm locked in an epic duel with Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail 72. I don't know what this says about me, or about my book tastes, or whether or not any readers will ever want to borrow a book from me, but for some reason, that inherent authority of the non-fiction label just seems to scratch right where I itch during bathroom time. I suppose the real challenge would be something like Million Little Pieces and how that affects my...well...let's just agree that nothing clever can go here, and only something disgusting.

5) I've lost roughly 20 pounds this summer, and I'm not happy with it yet. I'm gonna embark on a crash diet for a while and see what happens. They are supposed to be bad for you, but I'll be the judge of that, thank you. I've also written roughly 20 pages of my thesis this summer, also a disappointment. I wanted to be at 50 in both weight loss and page length. Shame that eating GrapeNuts twice a day isn't gonna somehow make my Richard Russo impersonation go faster.

6) I'm locked into my first round of graduate school goodbyes. Kinda sucks, but that something MFAers sign up for. We all want that college job, and every year if we land at a school with their own MFA program, we'll be shunting off load after load of students to do whatever they want with their degrees. So this is just my first taste of a series of goodbye parties. I didn't really have a proper going away party when I moved up here. My friends back home are plenty cool, just not too good at arranging things. For example, I was the designated driver for my bachelor's party. I may have said that before. But something about it just rings so true for my group of friends in the StL, but I wouldn't trade'em for nothing. Except millions of dollars.

7) I got a rejection letter from the Missouri Review. That was expected, or at least not troublesome. On their tiny form letter they included a little thing that said "Keep submitting." Is that because they have a stockpile of their tiny form letters and they can't just shred'em? Or because I'm not quite ready yet, like some green prospect who can't quite throw an effective change-up? I mean, this is the third, possibly fourth time I got a "no, but keep up the fight, Shooter." One was from Padgett Powell at the University of Florida. I got that form letter with a little extra note that said keep up the hard work from him. That was kinda nice, but I prefer a bit of callousness with my nos. Just say, nope, no good, and leave it at that. Adding those little "keep trying, you've almost got it"s on the damn thing make me conjure fantasies about debates of whether or not what I did was good enough, and that I've somehow managed to divide the staff or something else. I don't need that stress or the idea that what if the guy who liked my story was just a little more convincing when speaking with the editor in chief. Just stamp the damn letter. Some people like a little personalizing of it, but c'mon, they aren't gonna publish it no matter how nice they no letter is. Let's just snip the flowers off this grave and let the body lie.

8) I do not advise working customer service for anything associated with travel. I am well aware of the ignorance of the general public. Shit, I'm part of the general public and I do stupid things all the time. Like the other day, I booked tickets to go see King Tut in Chicago, and I picked the wrong times becase I'm just another general public goof. But, there is something about that travel industry. It is just one of those things that unless you do it, it's hard to compare it to other customer service experiences. Essentially you have to attack it with an emotional shield that's appropriate for all customer service gigs, but man, it just controls you. Up at 5A, work by 6A, home by 3P, dinner by 5P, sleep by 9P. And no deviation allowed. Makes for famous times.

Long post over, regular blogging will resume shortly...Especially if I can find any sweet pictures of Sal Fasano.

VIVA EL MUSTACHE!!!!