When Procrastinating . . . blogging is the devil

I have to write a bio and email by tomorrow. Somebody else's bio I could do, easy. My bio . . . not so much. Am I having an identity crises? I write these things down, string them together . . . and hell, it kinda sounds like maybe I should know what I'm talking about. How's that for insane? ME, the one who knows what they're doing! Shit! That says something about the state of the world. As I do this I'm realising I really need to update my CV . . . I am out of touch, out of date, not sure what I've done or where I've been . . . it's all a little fuzzy around the edges.

I keep thinking of the people in Blackville who are going to see these posters around town . . . it'll cause quite the stir, mark my words. I was so visible for so long . . . everywhere I went people had heard of me (young girls do not own nightclubs where I come from, it's just not done, it's not normal) . . . I still remember that one lady crinkling up her nose, quite confused, saying I was such a lovely girl, very sweet and nice . . . nothing like what she was expecting . . . uhh, thanks lady, I think.

Crazy young girl running a nightclub, quite the spectacle . . . I couldn't keep up with the rumors and gossip it was so plentiful. Some of it so ridiculous I couldn't even fathom who had the time or imagination to make this stuff up . . . some of it very cruel and hurtful . . . very little of it based in any semblance of truth. I was on the hot seat for sure, in the eye, smile always on in networking/marketing/business mode . . . Then I just folded up shop and dropped off the face of the earth, disappeared . . . people thought I went back to Toronto. Nobody knew for sure where I was, what I was doing. Occasionally finding myself out in the ickyness that is a Renous Rec dance, surrounded by old Powertrack crowds, everyone wanting to know if I was "really" writing a book . . . and were they in it. Suddenly all of my former customers wake up and realise that barkeeper was not my primary goal in life . . . maybe they should have been better behaved. "What happened that night anyway? Did I really say what I think I did . . . with my wife sitting less than 20 feet away?"

It's a real concern, this book I'm rumored to be writing. Even Pookie had to call to see if the rumors were true. Find out if he was in it. It's fiction, I said, any resemblance to characters from real life is purely coincidental . . . in other words . . . sue me! No, I'm kidding. He's not in it. Callum is essentially a good person, who falls off the right path for awhile is all, but a teddy bear at heart . . . Pookie has a cutesy nickname but he is no teddy bear.

ASIDE: A friend of mine was threatened by an ex, told that she would kill him if he ever wrote about her . . . so of course, he immediately completed a chapbook that is about her and nothing but her . . . and it's quite good . . . he's shopping it around, it could see some distribution one day. At a recent public reading, he read an excerpt. Just as he was about to utter the first word, deafening sirens went off. . . police, ambulance, fire . . . total mayhem in the street outside. We had to wait for it to clear before he could continue. Thought for sure she was coming to make good on her threat. I nearly choked on my breakfast, I was laughing so hard :END ASIDE

And now, after years of wondering whatever happened to . . . all of a sudden there will be posters at the Irving and the post office and the drug store with my name on them . . . again. Me, announcing to the community that I know how to write and I've come back to teach them . . . for a small fee. Man! How are they gonna like them apples? How am I ever going to step into that room and pretend I know what's what? What the hell was I thinking? This much panic over the friggin' bio . . . how will I ever do this without vibrating to death from the nervous shakes? And good lord, who on earth is going to sign up to take this? And even worse . . . what if NOBODY signs up?

I must've been in some kind of a crazy good mood when I agreed to do this.

Mood: procrastinating
Drinking: quite possibly the worse cup of tea in the history of mankind
Listening To: Bob Dylan . . . no one song, just all of it . . . Loopy would be proud
Hair: got this flock of seagulls type wave thing going on . . . scary!