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What would Florence Henderson do?
Mar. 25th, 2003 08:19 amTrying to ground myself in some kind of normalcy. The Brady Bunch version where I cook and clean and offer my children helpful hints about oral hygiene. For dinner last night, I made pesto from scratch and concocted an elaborate salad from Romaine hearts, red peppers, walnuts and pine nuts. Today I will bake bread and miniature chocolate bundt cakes. Maybe I'll buy an apron with red and white checks.
The voices in my head are strong and though it's always an effort to tear myself away from various Internet bulletin boards and the New York Post online (Page Six, not the war. Never the war) once I get going, the words just spill. Good words too. I love my enigmatic Russian detective. Still, from a marketing point of view, this is probably the wrong time to be writing a thriller about the Himalayan region. Nobody cares about the Himalayan region. Bush isn't going to send troops in to liberate Tibet.
Everybody cares about the Middle East.
Strange thing – the war has made me horny. But in a weird way. Like I want to go out trawling for some nice professor of Arabic languages, or a Lebanese importer, or an Egyptian doctor whose only thought after graduating from the University of Alexandria was how to plug himself into the rural American healthcare system. Fucking is certainly a more effective means of integrating cultural differences than hammering a population with Patriot missiles. Doesn't do much for prices at the gasoline pump though.
The voices in my head are strong and though it's always an effort to tear myself away from various Internet bulletin boards and the New York Post online (Page Six, not the war. Never the war) once I get going, the words just spill. Good words too. I love my enigmatic Russian detective. Still, from a marketing point of view, this is probably the wrong time to be writing a thriller about the Himalayan region. Nobody cares about the Himalayan region. Bush isn't going to send troops in to liberate Tibet.
Everybody cares about the Middle East.
Strange thing – the war has made me horny. But in a weird way. Like I want to go out trawling for some nice professor of Arabic languages, or a Lebanese importer, or an Egyptian doctor whose only thought after graduating from the University of Alexandria was how to plug himself into the rural American healthcare system. Fucking is certainly a more effective means of integrating cultural differences than hammering a population with Patriot missiles. Doesn't do much for prices at the gasoline pump though.
