"This is the dandelion with its thousand faculties
Like an old woman taken by the neck
And shaken to pieces.
This is the dust-flower flitting away.
This is the flower of amnesia.
It has opened its head to the wind,
All brave and weakness
As if a wooden man should stroll through fire."
Alice Oswald, Head of a Dandelion
See Spacecraft Voyager I.
1. This is not a blog for me to keep up with my extended family, my support group members, or my Superfriends. But, to be clear – me and Rainbow Bright? – we’re friends. Just friends.
2. Although I’d rather be famous and adored while I’m alive, I’ll settle for posthumous recognition, with one condition: any posthumous account of my life can’t be one of those documentary cautionary tails, dramatizing my early tragic death, at the height of my fame, under creepy circumstances.
3. If this blog needed a disclaimer it would be that I don't endorse or recommend the practices I preach, and that I'm not responsible for inducing any flashbacks to single parenthood, careers as underpaid attorneys, or to once-desperate closet drinkers now sober but troubled sometimes with bitter regret.
4. I believe we need to include “spiritual” conditions to parole. You shouldn’t just have to check in with your PO, and wear an ankle bracelet. You should also have to write a composition about how you were rehabilitated during your incarceration. Just kidding.
5. If this blog was a movie, it would be a cross between a suicide video and an Edwardian comedy of manners, directed by Sinan the Greek, produced by Time-Warner and promising less than it delivered in the way of plot integrity and production values.
6. I have a favorite spoon, and too many aromatherapy products.
7. As for my gardening expertise, I happen to know that cannabis and hops are in the same exclusive botanical family. Which means I know you could grow the very hempen ropes you could then use to train your hop vines, and I bet that never occurred to YOU until I just said it. But talk about companion planting. Am I right?
8. If this blog was a cry for help, a messianic theology, a conspiracy theory, or a mere apology for the stupid crassness of joining a Christian Singles Group, I’d be sure to let you know right about now. ‘Nuff said.
9. If this blog was a clearing house for misused or misspelled grammatical abortions that somehow make cosmic sense, I’d talk about my “esprit décor” in a tone of righteous indigestion. But it’s not, so I won’t.
10. If this blog was a drunk co-ed passed out the morning after beneath the dining room table at the frat house, it would be a rather sad, overweight, desperate, passed-out drunken adolescent, subject to increasing mood swings, and beginning to catalog her regrets.