cats

I left Mean-Spirited Tales at this book store where I want to have a reading, because the associate said the owner needs to look through my book first. “Call in a week,” he said.

It’s weeks past the time he said to call. So I’m sure the owner has read the entire book by now and is waiting anxiously for my call. I’ll bet she’s all like, “Gosh, when’s Sandee calling? We need her! This Mean-Spirited Tales, it’s unguent, for the tortured soul…”

Of course it’s unguent — it has sadism, a beheading, alcoholics, liver pâté, the devil, an angel and some cats.

Do you know how many souls I’ve healed with my book? It frightens me to think of it.

My other reading was at the Indian Road Cafe. Patrons were there eating and talking. Good thing I invited lots of people and screamed the stories to drown the patrons out. After while I couldn’t hear any patrons. Or maybe they were just fascinated by my hypnotic story-telling skill – yes, that’s it. No wait – they were captivated by the creature horns on my head, by my piercing glare.

The Indian Road Café is a nice atmosphere and the food is great, but the book store has a podium! I’ve always wanted to pontificate behind a podium. No horns needed to draw attention to my flapping maw – I’ll be the center of everyone’s eye, standing tall.

I need to end this bookstore owner’s anticipation for my call though. I’ll hurry and call and schedule the date for my reading, that way she can celebrate it over the weekend. Who says Aunt Sandee isn’t altruistic.

Bloggers speak of writer’s block. It happens, especially when you have spouses, children, mortgages, cats, dogs, ferrets, migraines, sex lives, warrants. While I do have a job, hobbies and a social life, I don’t have that other stuff, just the occasional mouse running around my apartment that I like to feed. Soon I anticipate more going on so who knows how often I’ll be in here.

But up ‘til now, of course the fuck I’ve been able to post regularly! What else have I got going on…sigh…

So you are it, friends! Until that next piece of – I mean – until that next fine, fine person comes along – who’m I kiddn’, I’m pushing the envelope, I’m old as shit, my day is done, my coins are tossed, the jig is up, well is dried, cookies fried –

— Friends, I’ve seen it all, I’ve tasted wine, and not forgotten. I’ve loved, I’ve lived I’ve laughed, I’ve danced the dance and tweaked my consciousness. I’ve felt, I’ve licked, I’ve spat, I’ve chewed, I’ve ea-ten off, of every sur-face, but now, more o-d-ious, more hi-de-ous, is I just vo-mi-ted in Word Press.