foursquare

1. note to self: straight bourbon with a beer chaser is probably not the most sound thing to be imbibing on a monday night. right.

2. i've been instructed by senor producer to write a love song. which is all well and good, except for the fact that i haven't got the faintest idea how to write a love song. i'm far too self conscious. i've spent years teaching myself to cope with publicly spewing my vitriol and angst, and it's never been easy. so the prospect of airing out feelings of actual affection? mortifying. absolutely mortifying. it's entirely too personal. (not that my fury isn't, but there's something about anger that makes me feel less vulnerable) to say nothing of the embarrassment it would cause the subject (oh yes, a detail of the assignment: it can't be an abstract love song. it has to be written about someone specific. no points for guessing who. and, though we've gotten to the drain-unclogging phase, i don't think he's ready to hear me confess metaphorical adoration in public just yet). plus, have i mentioned i don't know how to write a love song? there's no way i'll be able to pull it off without being overly saccharine. and trite. drat. but i have to give it the old college try by my next show (which is the 26th, for those of you keeping track at home), or else the producer will be angered.

3. sometimes i don't know what little demon gets into me when i dress myself in the morning. today: sandals and legwarmers. though i feel very grecian and refined...what the hell was i thinking?

4. tom robbins has a new book out. it was released in april. how has this escaped my attention until just now?