There's this Chinese take-out place a few blocks away that Josh and I kind of like. I mean, it's not the best, but it's take-out, so what do you expect?
I've started getting the "special" Phad Thai from this place and I really, really like it. There's this sweet and smoky flavor that I can never quite place, but it's so familiar and delicious. Last night, I placed it. It's barbecue sauce. Hmmm. Yeah, I'm still going to eat there, like, all the time. Maybe even more.
Another rejection, another day. But another submission, another chance. I'm polishing one story. Wait, sidebar. I really have trouble with the word "polishing". I always read it as "Polish-ing". And then I think of sausage and then I think of currywurst, which I've never had, but I'd probably like because I love curry. I almost named this blog "Vicious Curry". OK. No I didn't. But I really love curry. I seriously hope I die with the taste of curry on my tongue. If you plan on killing me, do it after I've had curry, please.
Actually, don't kill me. If you're planning on it, don't.
Anyway, I'm polishing this story about my coming out experience. I've been trying to write it for nine years, but only now am I removed enough. I know, right? Being gay is such drama. I'm also shopping this museum guard story around, but it keeps getting rejected. I fiddled with it today and submitted it somewhere I've never submitted anything before. Let's all cross our fingers, m'kay?
I've started this story about a man stuck on a sailboat in a hurricane. He's mourning the loss of his lover. It's a further exploration of this stupid poem I wrote in college. So far, it's a pretty good story. Especially since I know NOTHING about sailing.
Speaking of sailing, I was once part of the crew of a sailboat. Back in my teenage churchy days, I sailed to the Bahamas with my youth group. We all "learned" how to sail, but the only thing I really did was draw in my sketchbook. Oh, and collect seashells. We all laid around on a beach one day, and I brought back some shells and scattered them on the deck to dry. The captain threw them overboard and then went on an Ahabesque tirade about unnecessary clutter. Yeah, I was pretty pissed. But really, they were just seashells.
We also used dish soap to bathe in the ocean . That's what I know about sailing. Lemon-scented dish soap.
I've started getting the "special" Phad Thai from this place and I really, really like it. There's this sweet and smoky flavor that I can never quite place, but it's so familiar and delicious. Last night, I placed it. It's barbecue sauce. Hmmm. Yeah, I'm still going to eat there, like, all the time. Maybe even more.
Another rejection, another day. But another submission, another chance. I'm polishing one story. Wait, sidebar. I really have trouble with the word "polishing". I always read it as "Polish-ing". And then I think of sausage and then I think of currywurst, which I've never had, but I'd probably like because I love curry. I almost named this blog "Vicious Curry". OK. No I didn't. But I really love curry. I seriously hope I die with the taste of curry on my tongue. If you plan on killing me, do it after I've had curry, please.
Actually, don't kill me. If you're planning on it, don't.
Anyway, I'm polishing this story about my coming out experience. I've been trying to write it for nine years, but only now am I removed enough. I know, right? Being gay is such drama. I'm also shopping this museum guard story around, but it keeps getting rejected. I fiddled with it today and submitted it somewhere I've never submitted anything before. Let's all cross our fingers, m'kay?
I've started this story about a man stuck on a sailboat in a hurricane. He's mourning the loss of his lover. It's a further exploration of this stupid poem I wrote in college. So far, it's a pretty good story. Especially since I know NOTHING about sailing.
Speaking of sailing, I was once part of the crew of a sailboat. Back in my teenage churchy days, I sailed to the Bahamas with my youth group. We all "learned" how to sail, but the only thing I really did was draw in my sketchbook. Oh, and collect seashells. We all laid around on a beach one day, and I brought back some shells and scattered them on the deck to dry. The captain threw them overboard and then went on an Ahabesque tirade about unnecessary clutter. Yeah, I was pretty pissed. But really, they were just seashells.
We also used dish soap to bathe in the ocean . That's what I know about sailing. Lemon-scented dish soap.