Showing posts from February, 2006
The strategically located furniture throughout the elegant Northbrook Court shopping center—I rarely use it. But when I do fancy a sit-down between, perhaps, Brooks Brothers on one side, the Sharper Image on the other, Marshal Fields behind me, and the AMC multiplex ahead in the distance, I generally find the posh sofa or love seat or recliner too soft or too firm or too big. Nevertheless, that furniture, I’m glad it’s always there.
When the Army shipped Richie Cunningham off to Greenland, I didn’t realize Ron Howard actually left the show. I waited through every subsequent episode for his return. Because, you see, I identified with Richie Cunningham. I yearned to see his expected cross-over into the Thumbs-Up “Ayyy” Universe of Arthur Fonzarelli Coolness. I wanted to chart the course—so that, one day, I, myself, could embark on the enlightening journey toward all that is Fonzie; and also so that, one day, I could raise my head and proudly say, “Yes, I Jumped The Shark. And all by myself, too.” How many of us can honestly say that we’ve reached the point of the Jumped Shark? How many of us have truly —and even boldly —gone that far?
Dad once told me to drink my orange juice before all of the Vitamin C escaped. I didn’t believe him. Nevertheless, I did what I was told. So, he can’t say I wasn’t a good boy at least once .
…so difficult to savor , to capture the Ecstasy of Her … … clinging to her and knowing it was fleeting ... …and yet clinging to her harder still… ...and harder still... ...what's left now... ...a trace of an embrace... ...a whiff of kissed skin... ...a fantasy, all over again...
Excerpt From A Fan Q & A... FAN: Anyway, listen—I wanted to ask if you consider yourself a materialist. Meaning, that everything exists in the here and now, Earth-based. And if so, if this outlook explains the emphasis on sex in your writing. FIREVANEY: Anyway, no. I do not consider myself a materialist. I consider myself a virus masquerading as a highly evolved life form. Honestly, I do. However, everything DOES exist in the here and now. Anything that DOES NOT exist in the here and now simply doesn't exist. Spoken like a true virus, eh? And the only reason I write about sex so much has to do with the fact that it's been so long since I've had any.
Saturday afternoon: attended a funeral for somebody I’d met only once—at a funeral for somebody else (of course) I’d met only once. Such is life living amongst geriatrics.
Unless we’re talkin’ like a drug-induced insanity, I’m no longer a firm believer in the “ Somethin' Just Snapped ” switch-over into madness. Naw, my money’s on a more gradual descent into that which is Pure C R A Z Y .