Tell Me Again…Where Was I?

It is ok.  I’m back.

A friend told me my blog posts are too long.  They’re interesting, he said, but too long and confusing.  And he’s a Democrat so he’s smarter than most people out there.  So I took his opinion to heart, weighed it a bit, but now I have decided to come back and write.

Of course he made his comment right when I was starting to get good, too.

Mary Beth Hurt, The World According to Garp

In fact I was working up a rather important essay about Mary Beth Hurt.  Did you know she was in her early 30s when she played Robin William’s love interest in The World According to Garp?  I thought I might look up Mary Beth some day, but then I come to find out she’s near my mother’s age.  Still…boy, I tell you what…watching that film did things to me that I hadn’t felt since I was 12 watching Julie Gholson play Mary Call in Where the Lilies Bloom.  How nicely Mary Call fit my prepubescent lust back in 1975 … or whenever that was.  (I have written a little study of Mary Call, too.)

But anyway, back to Mary Beth Hurt…I had a good study going there.  Now…poof!  Nothing.  And whatever did happen to Julie Gholson and why can’t I find Where the Lilies Bloom on DVD?

It doesn’t matter.  I should write more about sales.  Or maybe more about politics.  One or the other, but not both?  What about walks in the park?  Can I carry on my battle against Bad Parker?

(I am being deliberately chatty with myself here to let my critic friend know that I am still what I am.)

I have been enjoying sales a lot more lately.  I am allowing myself to have fun.  That’s the trick.  And I literally mean…allow.  You need to let your natural propensities work its magic.  When I am listening to some old hot head ramble on and on and on about things I can’t stand to listen to anymore I find myself thinking things like “I wonder if I could take this guy in a fight.”  He thinks I am paying attention, but I’m trying to judge if he’s more of a slugger or a wrestler.

Or when the business owner’s wife comes out and lays in with her two cents…usually carelessly strung together drivel…I try to imagine what she looked like in her senior class picture.  It’s automatic.  I can’t help it.

A skilled salesman learns to listen and respond while figuratively — or metaphorically (sorry, critic) — undressing his client.  Whoops!  Did she just say return on investment?  Time to stop wondering if her socks — or other things — match.

So, ok…I wander and ramble.  I also mock ignorance and stupidity.  That all seems to go together quite nicely.  And I start a lot of sentences with conjunctions.  So what?  At least I don’t swear, especially the mother of them all:  That “F” word.  (Although the mocking ignorance of our society certainly does call for it often enough as in “fucking idiot”, “fucked up”, and “stupid mother fucker”.  All without irony.)

But I am back again!  Oh my, I am back again!  And I am going to get my Zemanta fixed.  Yes, Rok Pregelj, that means I’ll be Skypingyou.

My God! That looks like Michele Bachmann, intelligent woman speaking about women's rights? It must be a movie. (The World Accoridng to Garp.)


I look forward to taking cheap shots at radical right wing nut jobs, too.  Even if it is a simple thing to do.  This country needs help, simple or not!  We cannot sit around and let Republicans pile on the harm, right?  Ignorance, stupidity, and the Talibanizing of America are not good things.  Not at all.  You might think that we would be predisastered by now, but disaster looms on the horizon.  (Stop voting for Republicans.)

There’s a lot to do.  Let’s see what happens tomorrow.  Maybe I’ll write about wooly bears again.  It is that time of the year once again.  And wooly bears have a smart, easy confidence that’s hard to match.

One thought on “Tell Me Again…Where Was I?

  1. squinnaz

    Who is your reader who says those things. Whoever it is, he’s wrong and I’m right. Your posts are a little long, I’ll give him that. Some more than others. You’re best when talking about sales. Nobody cares about your 12-year old lust life, where you seem to be stuck, but you do make the odd good observation, and your pictures are good, and you cope with criticism well. I mean, you have no emotional involvement in criticism. I like that. It’s cool. It never makes you mean. You take it for what it is–the mad rambling of people who don’t matter, even if they know what they’re talking about.

    As far as being confusing, you do make the reader work sometimes.


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