That’s what they try to tell you about writing. I wrote a story. My first one after turning 40. I think it’s good. It needs some polishing, but it amuses me. I’m mulling over what’s next. I have this thing niggling at the back of my brain, a Midwestern thing. A story with a big sky and bugs thick on your windshield. But I’m not sure yet.
I need, also, to figure out what I’m doing for October. And I need to try to run into a bunch of people to see if I can keep all the various things that are supposed to be in the works moving forward.
Yesterday, there was a blind item on the internet about a back-in-the-day A list country singer and his tv star wife who throw the most spectacular swingers parties in Nashville. This morning, on our way to work, the Butcher and I decided that, if Clint Black made no comment, but “leaked” a cover of him doing John Anderson’s “Swingin’,” he could have all our money.
The Butcher’s friend, the Black Dog, stopped by for a moment this morning because the Butcher had forgotten the keys to the Black Dog’s house and, thus, could not return the Black Dog to said house. The Black Dog and Sonnyboy walk together most mornings, but usually don’t, according to the Butcher, pay much attention to each other. This is the case even when they’re at the house. Sonnyboy is busy following the Butcher around and the Black Dog is sniffing everything and searching for the cats. The Black Dog’s disinterest in Sonnyboy is proportional to his curiosity about the cats.
I don’t know. I can’t quite make sense of Sonnyboy and the Black Dog’s relationship. Most dogs I’ve seen are either really excited about and curious about the presence of another dog or suspicious and wary. But these two dogs are about as completely disinterested in each other as you could possibly be and not violate some law of physics. It makes it really easy to do things with both of them, as there’s not really any competition between them for space or affection–not like when Sonnyboy is all “But why are you petting the cat when my head is right here? Do you need my head to be closer to where the cat is? Would that help you make the better petting choice? Oh, lord, why did the cat scratch me?!”
But it’s still odd to me. I can only assume that they’re just like “Oh, it’s you. Everything cool? Yeah? Cool.” and then they just don’t worry about the other anymore. Like they have each other figured out. It’s everything else that’s so fucking weird.