Schlemiel

What a slippery word, eh? All mewly and lipsmacky slurry. Can’t you just see the poor critter, sliding down a wet path, having tripped on a branch and being walloped in the face by aspen switches, a cougar sniffing down her scent as she splats into a puddle at the bottom? Yah.

That’s me in the puddle, covered in my special homemade, organic, spring-fed, no additives mud. Fed by vanity. Sprung from flattery. Ego-inflated. Good old-fashioned hubris with a splash of comedy. The mud of aspiration, of daring to aspire to writing beyond blogging. I still do. But foolishly, I abandoned a lovely blog and lovely bloggers and lovely followers, thinking I needed to move on and be A SERIOUS WRITER and DO SERIOUS WRITING and I decided it couldn’t be done while blogging.

Pffft. *Sits ass in mud and takes another bath, carefully applies gobs over the already hardened layer to ensure thorough coverage.*

Six weeks have passed since the so-called withdrawal during which I blogged everyday here – albeit really stinky shit, as opposed to scent-free shit – wrote three new decent pieces of work and sent off something to an essay contest. Plus, I created two fictional characters – sweet and salty Lady Smock and Harry Bittercress – out of my very own mud-spattered imagination. I didn’t even know I could do that. Take that, you schlemiel!

You want to know what I’m going to do here? I wish I knew. Probably creative non-fiction and chit chat about this and that. But I’m also going to share more. Out there swirling in the potholes and puddles of the blogosphere’s sodden byways there are some really stupendous, smart, funny, magnificently clever bloggers. When I find a good one I’ll let you know.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to take a shower while I can still bend my mud-caked knees.