Wednesday, April 20, 2005
More on the subject of having nothing to write about anymore, I'm going to start another of my best-selling novels on my blog again. This one is going to be a feel-good family saga epic thing.
Chapter One
Mum walked into the kitchen and told me to clean that room of mine. Lately I had started singing in response to her nagging. It diverted an argument and sometimes made her laugh. I had really hit the jackpot when I thought of this method of getting her to shut up and possibly leave me alone unless she was saying something that wasn't of the Nagging variety.
What are you going to do for the next three months, Lizzy? She asked. Do you still write on that website of yours? Why, mam, yes I do. These days I write about how I have nothing to write about. How post-modern of me.
She watched the only thing that was on TV, a vet show called Harry's Practise. She looked at the TV as if trying to figure out a cross-word clue, leaned back, and contented herself with some cute pets. Can you in fact imagine what my mother looks like when I ask her to help me with a cross-word clue? If not, don't get your knickers in a knot, and don't lose your concentration like I do everytime I read something I can't relate to. It's just that that's how she looked as she watched.
Look Lizzy, look! As I looked up I presumed there was a cat on the TV that looked kind of slightly half a bit like Fluffy, the cat that ran away when we moved to Gosford eight years ago. It didn't look a thing like him, as usual.
Then Yassy rang on the new phone Dick had installed because the 7, 8, and 9 on the old one were fading. He is obsessive with home alterations and improvements, alot like Michael Jackson and the lump of white clay that seems to have replaced his face about 20 years ago. Back to the phone call. I lay on the couch as I listened to Mum tell her off for giving away her bank details and signing some form to sponsor a child in Sri Lanka. Then I got on the phone and told her not to worry, the chances are she hasn't been conned. Go Yassy. Yassy was born in Sri Lanka and adopted when she was one.
Stay Tuned For the Next Installment of a Useless Sandwich Maker in the Kitchen ¶ 18:16
Chapter One
Mum walked into the kitchen and told me to clean that room of mine. Lately I had started singing in response to her nagging. It diverted an argument and sometimes made her laugh. I had really hit the jackpot when I thought of this method of getting her to shut up and possibly leave me alone unless she was saying something that wasn't of the Nagging variety.
What are you going to do for the next three months, Lizzy? She asked. Do you still write on that website of yours? Why, mam, yes I do. These days I write about how I have nothing to write about. How post-modern of me.
She watched the only thing that was on TV, a vet show called Harry's Practise. She looked at the TV as if trying to figure out a cross-word clue, leaned back, and contented herself with some cute pets. Can you in fact imagine what my mother looks like when I ask her to help me with a cross-word clue? If not, don't get your knickers in a knot, and don't lose your concentration like I do everytime I read something I can't relate to. It's just that that's how she looked as she watched.
Look Lizzy, look! As I looked up I presumed there was a cat on the TV that looked kind of slightly half a bit like Fluffy, the cat that ran away when we moved to Gosford eight years ago. It didn't look a thing like him, as usual.
Then Yassy rang on the new phone Dick had installed because the 7, 8, and 9 on the old one were fading. He is obsessive with home alterations and improvements, alot like Michael Jackson and the lump of white clay that seems to have replaced his face about 20 years ago. Back to the phone call. I lay on the couch as I listened to Mum tell her off for giving away her bank details and signing some form to sponsor a child in Sri Lanka. Then I got on the phone and told her not to worry, the chances are she hasn't been conned. Go Yassy. Yassy was born in Sri Lanka and adopted when she was one.
Stay Tuned For the Next Installment of a Useless Sandwich Maker in the Kitchen ¶ 18:16
