Various Unconnected Stuff with a Promise of Something Better to Come

“Be assertive when decisive action is needed.”

This is my real fortune tonight, post broccoli with bean curd. The last one I snagged off a coworker’s desk. (The cryptic one.) (Cryptic fortune. Uncryptic coworker.)

Had one stiff drink at a bar tonight in a state of mourning over the lost friend. During that time I told some kind of a story, something I saw, something involving a small girl, but I feel that maybe I have killed enough of my own brain cells by now to have forgotten what it was. But I distinctly remember thinking, loudly, “Blog about this later.”

Forgive me. I spend more time these days writing about what I cannot remember than about the colorful stories I remember then forget. In the background right now is the “Don’t speak. Don’t speak,” of “Bullets Over Broadway” fame. Mostly when I look up I am marveling over the strange sequined hats women in the 1920s wore that resembled bathing caps. Such a bad-hair-day-chic solution.

And now I wonder what the half-hole punch is at the bottom of the fortune cookie papers. Hm.

Done wondering.

Recently I read in a semi-bad novel an assertion I’ve been testing: That you need to pay more attention to what you see in somebody’s eyes in the first few seconds after an assertion. Or a thought. Or an action. Sometimes it is very telling. Another coworker, when I ran this past him, told me that he thought you could tell within the first five minutes of meeting someone if you would ever want to sleep with them. (An assertion he got from somewhere else; where I don’t remember.) Thoughts?

[Unrelated statements follow.] I may be embarking on my first actual book. Like really may be. Might be maybe. All signs point to “Yes.” And so on.

Realizing that, really, I should read Joan Didion’s book on grief. Grief is maybe the most mysterious emotion, I am realizing. It is a terribly complex feeling based on an absence. Which makes no sense somehow in my head or heart.

Now ends the evening babble.