For hours, there's no doubt
No use wasting time
Hello, by Tristan Prettyman
So, I've toyed with the idea of starting a blog ever since my typography teacher suggested it as a means of overcoming some hideous anxiety about my writing. Then Kami suggested it as a type of newsletter to keep the Six Musketeers in the loop of every one's hectic lives. What results here is a mash-up of the two. For the fistful of you (see: Kami) who read this thing, expect equal parts boring life story and bad creative writing. Feel free to comment on either. Please note that the writings I post here are copied directly from my moleskin, where they were written exactly as I thought them. I haven't edited them, which is part of what I was told to do to help with my squeamishness every time I pick up a pen. We'll see how that goes.
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Post-Script: All of my posts (except the writings) will be titled with quotes from various places. If the words are from a song, then there will be a link that points to a download. If they're from a story or other written material, the link will lead you to more info on the source. Sound good?
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Post-Post-Script: I should probably let everyone know what the final tally in my mommie's Adventure of the Great Gangrenous Gallbladder of '08 was. Mommie: 1. Gallbladder: DED.
After the ER doctor sent her home Tuesday night with a cool, "your gallbladder isn't distended -- despite everyone but me being sure it is -- so go home and have fun writhing in pain," her oncologist told her to march back to the hospital. They had been sent strict orders to admit her, what with the trial chemotherapy she was on having a 45874329.6% success rate in DESTROYING patients' gallbladders. Several tests and a wowed surgeon later, and the diagnosis was official: mommie had gangrene. In the (of the?) gallbladder. Sweet. At least, that's what the surgeon said.
Apparently, the guy had never seen such a horrid case of dedness, and was naturally thrilled at the procedure he was about to perform, however simple. Since UCLA is a teaching hospital, he documented the surgery well so that all the little interns could see what happens when a patient is denied a common operation. Repeatedly.
The end result is that mommie comes home tomorrow, sans gallbladder, but feeling much better. Woot!!
2 comments:
Grr...When I fall in line like the sheep I am. I'm gonna blame you!(well maybe Kami)
Gangrene?! Oh my. I thought only soldiers in WWII got that...ew.
At least your mamasan will feel better and won't have to be hopped up on anything to get through the day :)
As for your writings/musings, don't even worry about editing. I obviously missed that boat with my last entry because I left a word out of the first sentence. :(
Since when do you have a moleskin? I have what we scrappers call an "inspiration journal," where we write down sketches of LOs, color comibnations we see in the world, website addresses to check out, and funny things people say...is it the same thing?
P.S. my mom just text me "so her GB will be famous!" referring to your mother.
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