"And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music." -- Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche

Such an amazing and touching quote, I couldn't bear to hold onto it for more than two seconds. This makes me think of so many things, all of them fantastical, each of them beautiful. A good note to end the day on, one of wonderment.

And I am tired. I've been up at Faye's most of the day, helping her out with the boys. Gorgeous little boys with blue eyes. What a handful! I'm happy she has them, for I love them and they're in my life. Having said that, my GOD I would never choose to go through all the work, torture, suffering, and bodily fluid that a mother must.

I changed a poopy diaper. And it was traumatic. Baby Brian didn't seem to care about the stench, neither did his older brother. I was alone with it, the only one who could smell it -- the opposite of hearing the music and dancing is smelling the shit and gagging.

But perhaps I exaggerate. Not really, but perhaps, if we're to think I'm half a human, a quarter part woman. Am I not supposed to be okay with children and their messy bits? I've always been abnormal, this I'll accept.

Off the subject of my wonderful family, whom I love and adore, I had a great meeting with my accountant this morning. There's so MUCH I can write off! And so much I have not been keeping proper track of! FUCK! But this year I'll try to be better, and she said I'm already on top of my shit, with all my saved receipts and categorized expenses. Working as a secretary did something after all. Good stories, good skills, and the appreciation that I am not currently working alongside any morons or assholes.

Quite the contrary. Work is good. Every week you can see my additional writing HERE , about local events of the week. And of course, my column posted belatedly in my Stories section or HERE!!!! I think it deserves the punctuation.

Ollie's work is HERE, and it's the cleverest shit this side of the Mississip. Read it, love it, be at one with it. He's golden, Pony Boy.

I've said enough. Time to brush my teeth, burn my baby-spit encrusted shirt, and crawl into bed -- I have a meeting with Secret Agent Man early in the morning. We'll get me syndicated or my cup size isn't double D.

-Barbarella

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