When things go awfully well.

I have been on what I’ve deemed a snuggie vacation.

Which means from Friday at about 11:45 PM until this morning at 7 I was naked and wrapped in my delightfully tacky warm warm snuggie. Safe from the world.

And then a bunch of really awesome things happened.

First. The really WOC centric queer story I wrote got accepted.

It’s going to be in mother fucking Smokelong Quarterly. I um..holy fucking shit y’all. I honestly really didn’t think I had a shot but my last submission spree was one of those what the fuck types.

I honestly had to close the email and come back to it.

It happened though. There will be art with it and everything.

I just..wow.

And then my first media appearance as your expert Black Fatass went live at The Root. I’ve heard to skip the comments. Earlier I did look and saw with great dismay that my point was missed entirely by a few people.

But it was my first grown up on the phone interview and I was so nervous. I’m proud though. I think I stated my fatass position well.

AND THEN..I got an acceptance from The Molotov Cocktail. I have been a little a lot obsessed with since I first read it.

I typed all that and am sitting here still feeling pretty appalled in the best kind of way.

These two stories are some of my favorite things right now and the interview was a gift.

Here’s the thing again with these stories and the interview and some other things in my private life.

I cannot give a fuck.

Not that I don’t care but I can’t give a fuck about doing what I think I’m supposed to do. I should listen to my gut more and get so wrapped up in doing other peoples shit.

I need to stick to telling my  stories not the ones I think people want to read.

In ‘On Writing’ Stephen King talks at some point about celebrating when something good happens.

We were really broke and then made an executive household decision to pay rent a day late for the first time in 8 years

There were other stress factors involved (that turned out good but I don’t want to share) so we got great dinners and my partner Uniballer bought me one pack of very fine cigarettes. Nat Sherman Yellow Dark.

Long dark slim and smoke like velvet. Yes. Smoking is my main vice. I don’t really drink, I don’t eat a lot of junk food. I don’t do drugs anymore. Smoking is the one pleasure I’m loathe to give up.

So I celebrate with a fancy smoke.

There was also a cigar involved and it was smelly deliciousness.

I wanted to put on red lipstick while smoking the cigar but didn’t want to get out of bed. It might have been only made better with a glass of very good scotch. But oh well.

Now I am going to finish my coffee. Take my clothes off and write like a mother fucker.


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