Sweetie daaarlings, what have you been up to these past two weeks? I've been trying to manage four week's worth of work in fourteen days. And in the middle of all that, I've managed to write, creatively, fiction, can you believe it? I guess when you start running on a certain gear, anything is possible, but you run out of steam eventually so the trip we're taking comes not a moment too soon. Tomorrow, tomorrow, I love you tomorrow, you're only a day a-waayy...
My shrapnel-shredded feet healed fast, so I've even been able to exercise almost as usual and am contemplating some sort of workstation revolution. All this sitting, it's getting harder and harder to bear. I don't know why. What I do know is I gotta solve it and soon. Winter returned, which is nice after that dreadful weather we had around New Year's. But I'd be lying if I told you I'm not violently happy to be taking off the skis and skates and stepping into some flip-flops. The sun'll come out tomorrow...
What else? Oh... To any extended family members reading: TMI alert. So. Why is it that what you'd rather post on FB/Twitter is the last thing you can? Because people would go, "I knew it! Nymphos. Each and every one of them." No. Hedonists. At least I am. But I got nothing on dearest, hottest Hubby. He's cooked and run errands, more so than usual, and he knows all work and no play makes me berserk. So one day, Inspector Gadget, conspirator and inspirator and provocateur extraordinaire, surprised me with some toys of my trade I don't remember mentioning or eyeing while roaming selected stores with him. Let's just say it was a massage with a happy ending and leave it at that. What? I'll grant you those toys are not always worth the money spent but some are, and fun too, and fun is good. Besides, you gotta know what you write. Or was it write what you know? I forget.
What else? If you're in NYC and not doing anything on February 28, (no, that doesn't sound right, if you're in NY and not doing anything, check your pulse to see if you still got one) The Swedish House Mafia would like to invite you to their Black Tie Rave. (Band and crew will work for free and all profits raised will go directly to the Mayor’s Fund to Advance New York City & the Hurricane Sandy New Jersey Relief Fund. Black tie/ballgowns, only. Auction 2 coming soon!) Exceeded my rave limit back in the day, but if you could cover for me, I'd be forever in your debt. No, I'm not giving you a massage with a happy ending, but surely we can think of something else you'd enjoy.
What else? The awesome contest we have going on 69 Shades is still running so run along and take part if you haven't already! And tell a friend! Tell two!! Don't make me look bad now. Spread the word!!!
I will see you in February then, dearest denizens. And if for some reason you never hear from me again (such is life, you never know, you know, it's tsunami coast and all), behave or I will haunt your ass. No massage with a happy ending for you, my friend. A massage with a medieval ending. Think about that while I'm gone, and be good. Willingly good. Except when you're being naughty. But even then you gotta treat 'em right or I'm coming after you and you don't want that. Are we clear on this? I said, are we clear on this? G o o d. As you were. Or as you wish things would be.
Dita Parker
Saturday, January 19, 2013
Wednesday, January 9, 2013
105 years of de Beauvoir
“I wish that every human life might be pure transparent freedom.”
~Simone de Beauvoir
~Simone de Beauvoir
Tuesday, January 8, 2013
As the days go by
It's Dita day again at 69 Shades, where I'm doing my best to compensate for the lack of inspiring start-of-year content here at the den. My post is about time, why it seems to go faster and faster as the years gather, and how you can try to slow it down a notch. Swing by, but not before you read the following:
Don't forget to follow the blog, especially now that we have a contest dipped in awesome sauce running through January 31. Check it out!
Don't forget to follow the blog, especially now that we have a contest dipped in awesome sauce running through January 31. Check it out!
Friday, January 4, 2013
Bohemian rhapsody
Happy 2013, dearest denizens! I racked my brain trying to come up with a super inspirational new-age-can-eat-poo-this-is-the-shit post to ring in the new year, but I drew a blank, a total carte blanche you should actually fill because I have no idea what sort of end-of-year reviews you did or what hopes you have for the next twelve months. Do share, if you dare! If there's anything I can do for you this year, on the blog/elsewhere/otherwise, let me know. Always glad to be of service.
"How about you stop blabbering and go write a book, a bit faster than you have done, if it's all the same to you." I hear you, sweetie darlings, or maybe it's just that voice in my head, echoes from the writer's wishing well. I do have a plan for this year and a plan to implement said plan but let's save you from disappointment and moi from embarrassment and celebrate completion of aforementioned plan if and when it's a done deal, shall we, because I have nothing to show for it yet besides two incomplete manuscripts I'm not ready to show to anyone at this stage. Gang aft agley, don't they, best-laid plans.
In English, please! Yeah yeah yeah. I count myself fortunate, being able to switch languages when one culture or continent starts bugging me. That is my forte, absolutely, and it's my weakness, no doubt about it, because that's what I often do when FTS is how I feel. (In case you've ever wondered where I've gone for varying amounts of time. In case you're wondering what would ever make me feel FTS, well, that's a post for another time, a post about a disturbance in the force if you will, in the esprit de corps of the writing community. Don't tell me you haven't noticed. There's an elephant in the room, neon orange and playing the trombone. No? OK.)
It's strange but rather convenient how little these lives and roles intersect, but I think I'd be wackier than I already am if they did. Then again, writers are masters at keeping count of and marshaling copious amounts of personas, usually fictional, of course, but sometimes very real, as well, those writing under multiple pen names, for instance. But how do they do it? All that comes with the territory these days, social media and such, how do they juggle it? I don't have to worry about getting lost in transition, only in translation, because language barriers are mighty borders indeed, globalization or no globalization. Still, what you see is what you get. So what can I get you in 2013?
"Another book would be nice." I'm on it. I am! At it, as soon as I press Publish, promise!! Sorry I'm not faster. So much to do in one lifetime. So much to do in the next two weeks and then we're off for a vacation we've been planning and saving for for a long time. Not a bad way to start the year, going on an adventure. Rest assured it's not all R&R. A writer's brain never vacations. It's always hunting and gathering; sights, scents and sounds, tastes and textures. I hope to come home with a treasure trunk oozing with inspiration.
And I'm feeling much better, thanks for...not asking, and I think I asked you not to, didn't I? It's just that when you suffer from a mild case of Superwoman syndrome, you start thinking that nothing short of a deadly disease is at work. But what did I do just yesterday afternoon? Got dinner started by dropping a glass lid, which naturally shattered at my bare feet. I got two minor cuts and one that's really nasty but nothing a Steri-strip won't fix. No exercising with these feet for a while, though, and just when I had a really nice indoor rowing routine going. Oh well. Another scar for the Parker Collection. What this poor skin of mine has had to endure.
My apologies for such a rambling post. The start of the year always means list-making and organizing and sorting aplenty and right now the creative side of my brain is screaming to be let loose. But I think it was E-P Salonen who said that you achieve nothing without self-discipline, even if you are a Bohemian. So. I second Jack Rebney, Winnebago Man: "I don't want any more bullshit anytime during the day, from anyone. That includes me!"
Let's get cracking with this new year of ours, shall we? Have a most prosperous, productive and proactive one, sweetie darlings. Even if you are bred-in-the-bone Bohemians.
"How about you stop blabbering and go write a book, a bit faster than you have done, if it's all the same to you." I hear you, sweetie darlings, or maybe it's just that voice in my head, echoes from the writer's wishing well. I do have a plan for this year and a plan to implement said plan but let's save you from disappointment and moi from embarrassment and celebrate completion of aforementioned plan if and when it's a done deal, shall we, because I have nothing to show for it yet besides two incomplete manuscripts I'm not ready to show to anyone at this stage. Gang aft agley, don't they, best-laid plans.
In English, please! Yeah yeah yeah. I count myself fortunate, being able to switch languages when one culture or continent starts bugging me. That is my forte, absolutely, and it's my weakness, no doubt about it, because that's what I often do when FTS is how I feel. (In case you've ever wondered where I've gone for varying amounts of time. In case you're wondering what would ever make me feel FTS, well, that's a post for another time, a post about a disturbance in the force if you will, in the esprit de corps of the writing community. Don't tell me you haven't noticed. There's an elephant in the room, neon orange and playing the trombone. No? OK.)
It's strange but rather convenient how little these lives and roles intersect, but I think I'd be wackier than I already am if they did. Then again, writers are masters at keeping count of and marshaling copious amounts of personas, usually fictional, of course, but sometimes very real, as well, those writing under multiple pen names, for instance. But how do they do it? All that comes with the territory these days, social media and such, how do they juggle it? I don't have to worry about getting lost in transition, only in translation, because language barriers are mighty borders indeed, globalization or no globalization. Still, what you see is what you get. So what can I get you in 2013?
"Another book would be nice." I'm on it. I am! At it, as soon as I press Publish, promise!! Sorry I'm not faster. So much to do in one lifetime. So much to do in the next two weeks and then we're off for a vacation we've been planning and saving for for a long time. Not a bad way to start the year, going on an adventure. Rest assured it's not all R&R. A writer's brain never vacations. It's always hunting and gathering; sights, scents and sounds, tastes and textures. I hope to come home with a treasure trunk oozing with inspiration.
And I'm feeling much better, thanks for...not asking, and I think I asked you not to, didn't I? It's just that when you suffer from a mild case of Superwoman syndrome, you start thinking that nothing short of a deadly disease is at work. But what did I do just yesterday afternoon? Got dinner started by dropping a glass lid, which naturally shattered at my bare feet. I got two minor cuts and one that's really nasty but nothing a Steri-strip won't fix. No exercising with these feet for a while, though, and just when I had a really nice indoor rowing routine going. Oh well. Another scar for the Parker Collection. What this poor skin of mine has had to endure.
My apologies for such a rambling post. The start of the year always means list-making and organizing and sorting aplenty and right now the creative side of my brain is screaming to be let loose. But I think it was E-P Salonen who said that you achieve nothing without self-discipline, even if you are a Bohemian. So. I second Jack Rebney, Winnebago Man: "I don't want any more bullshit anytime during the day, from anyone. That includes me!"
Let's get cracking with this new year of ours, shall we? Have a most prosperous, productive and proactive one, sweetie darlings. Even if you are bred-in-the-bone Bohemians.
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