Dita Parker

Showing posts with label just saying. Show all posts
Showing posts with label just saying. Show all posts

Wednesday, May 28, 2014

Oppression! Inégalité! Division!

Temperature: a rainy 5/41 (the day before yesterday: a sunny 24/75)

Eating: in a minute

Drinking: you know what this continent needs? A nice tall glass of Foot In Ass. And I don't mean the kind being served by some of our fellow nations near and far with an...how should I put it...what's that song...yes, an empire state of mind. I mean the kind that pops your head back straight on your shoulders because you seem to have lost it.

Watching: traveling via cinema before hitting the road: La Grande Bellezza, The Lunchbox, A Thousand Times Goodnight, Michael Glawogger's globalization trilogy.

Listening: to a lot of angry shouting and not much in the way of actual problem solving.

Reading: congratulations to Hassan Blasim, “perhaps the best writer of Arabic fiction alive,” who lives in Finland of all places.

Writing: birthday invitations (not mine, but I do love throwing a party!)

Feeling: so disappointed in Europe right now, fearing in a time that calls for daring. This promotes neither prosperity nor peace.

Wednesday, October 5, 2011

Notes in the margins

So now he has three hands?

Waxing poetic.

And again.

No, seriously. Stop sucking. Now!

Makes him sound like a power tool.

What season is this again? Fix description.

In 1751? I don't think so.

What? Losing your reader here. Losing the writer, too.

Is this her pussy or a cat after a bath?

Impossible since he is still wearing pants. Are these some kind of novelty pants? X [marks the spots in need of fixing]

Wednesday, July 20, 2011

Thoughts on a Thursday, which may well be a Wednesday, it's the heat talking, so shut up

Men. What do they want? No, seriously. Ellora's Cave is looking forward to hearing from you. What's your pleasure, gentlemen?

We are kind, merciful and forgiving toward others. Why is it so hard to be the same with ourselves?

Where was that white-tailed deer going? Where was I?

Corrective rape. Corrective. Rape. OMG AKA WTF.

According to the Annual Report of UN Women, the female half of humanity does sixty percent of all work and makes ten percent of the wages. Ownership is at one percent, political representation at twenty. You know what that means? We've made progress. O. M. G. [aka] W. T. F.!!!!!

Alice Munro can't be eighty. Thankfully, her stories will never age.

Furthermore, I think that if the boys of Team 6 aren't tied up at the moment, they should come rescue Princess Charlene ASAP. Thanks.

Monday, November 15, 2010

Lives for rent

So how are those New Year's resolutions working out for you, or your goals for this year? Have you found your waist, started a savings account or emptied out the one you were watching over like Scrooge? What do you mean what do I mean, you haven't forgotten about promises made have you? Pleading ignorance, temporary insanity or one too many glasses of bubbly, are we?

It's November, high time for an inventory, don't you think? Still haven't seen that movie, read that book, learned how to play chess or brushed up on your Spanish? Will you? Ever? Of course it's not laziness, it's prioritizing, right? If you were motivated by I-want-to instead of I-must, you would have gotten down to it sometime during the last millennium. You'd like to, sure, but why do you feel you have to? Would it make your life better? Would it make you a better person? It would make you busier still but would it make you happier?

If you're thinking you haven't thought about it much because you haven't had time to think of anything lately (and I've heard too much of that these past few months), you might want to start thinking whose thoughts are you thinking then, whose choices are you making, whose life are you living anyway.

Thursday, October 14, 2010

Oh, yes I did

So. Next time you're doing a rendition of Maria McKee's If Love Is a Red Dress (Hang Me In Rags) while raking, you might want to make sure your next door neighbor isn't at it, too. Raking, I mean, not wailing like a banshee.