Breaking literary news: my short story “The Assassin,” an excerpt from my (as-of-yet-unpublished) novel, Looking Up, is featured in WIPS: Works (of Fiction) in Progress. Read it here. And for a special treat, an interview with the author can be found here.
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Is that a mournful train whistle I hear in the distance? The second semester for university students begins next week, after MLK Day. This morning I’m taking K to the Amtrak station, where he’ll catch the train back to Tacoma. It was so nice to have my son home for winter break (all together now: They grow up so fast [1]). There is always a heart clutch to see him go, even if it’s not quite the dramatic departure as portrayed in cinema.
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Four Things I have learned to appreciate with age:
1. Dim lighting.
2. That’s about it.
3. There is no third thing. [2]
4. Did I mention dim lighting?
One Thing That Frosts My Aging Butt
If I hear or read one more time about how Forty is the new thirty, heads will roll. Not your head and not mine, and maybe just doll heads, but still….
Fifty is the new forty! It is ignorant insult masked as encouragement; it is a clueless commentary buttressing ageism and stereotypes. And we (women in particular) are supposed to find it complimentary, even as it implies that whatever age you are, don’t worry, you actually look or act younger, and younger is always better, so how dreadful to actually think of yourself as ___(whatever age you are) when that age is…no longer what it used to be.
Eighty is eighty and seventy is seventy and sixty is not the new forty, or even fifty. And Fuck you is the new fifty-seven, okay?
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How many times do you have the opportunity to look at pretty pictures of the bottom of someone’s feet? This is one of those times. You’re welcome.
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Silly question of the day: is it time for flatulence humor?
Really, when is it not time for a fart joke? Even better than your average fart joke is, the discovery that there is an Muslim version of The Onion. It’s called The Wadiyan, and alert readers will appreciate its coverage of breaking news, including the controversial law proposed by a sharia-following Indonesian city council to ban females from audibly passing gas.
Hard to believe that the preceding story escaped my attention when it was first published. I can only assume it was a somewhat silent but deadly warm up for April Fool’s day.
Carpe that diem, y’all. And may the ageless hijinks ensue.
Thanks for stopping by. Au Vendredi!
[1] Or, They look almost human when they’re sleeping…or whatever your favorite offspring adage is.
[2] But there is a second footnote.
