I am alternating between reading Terry Pratchett’s “The Light Fantastic” and the great literary wonder “Where’s Dildo? And 99 Other Mind-Stimulating Puzzles” – when I chanced upon a fictional personal ad which I really liked. The puzzle (from Where’s Dildo? of course) requires me to identify the fictional character who could have placed it in their local paper:
“Force”-ful SWF in search of a little truth after too many lies (my dad turned into an evil freak, I didn’t know this friend of mine was my twin brother until like 25 years later, etc.). Please be human, OK with my goofy hairstyle, and thin (was with a really fat guy for far too long, not doing that again). Willing to travel to different planets, but please be within the galaxy.
I love Star Wars.
Coming back to real life. I am still worried about my dad’s surgery and that has made me jittery and silly. But for some reason, I want to draw trees. Trees.
Which reminds me that I missed an opening to an exhibition yesterday which is why I have nothing to bitch out at the moment. Or admire. Artists don’t spend their entire lives bitching out other people’s artwork. We also admire the artistic endeavors of the rest of the world. We aren’t all selfish and mad. It’s just a stereotype. Sometimes however, it becomes the ugly truth.